Swans, swords and scarlet dresses
by The-Lady-Aphrodite
Summary: The King of Rohan and the Princess of Dol Amroth. A match made in heaven. Or not... Don't own
1. Chapter 1

**This story is slightly AU in terms of timing and everything. I hope you'll forgive me! **

The hall was hot and stuffy. Eomer loosened his shirt collar slightly and sighed. Despite being surrounded by friends he couldn't help but feel overcrowded. All he really wanted to do was go to bed. But Aragorn had arranged this banquet in his honour and he supposed it would be impolite to leave so early.

It didn't help that all the unmarried maidens of Gondor were out in full force tonight. Saturated in heady perfumes that made it hard to breathe, an inch thick of powder rubbed into their skin and long, shaped nails that closely resembled claws, they swarmed around him like bees to a honey pot. He was used to attention; for some reason women had always found him attractive but he knew exactly why this lot were interested. It had rather a lot to do with the gold crown sitting in Meduseld and very little to do with the man who now wore it.

Eomer sighed, determined not to dampen the evening by thinking of Theoden. Now was not yet the time. Soon, but not yet.

"Eomer!" A friendly voice cut through the quiet harps and conversation. Eomer glanced up to see Imrahil making his way towards him, a wide smile on his face. Eomer greeted him cheerfully; he respected and liked the older man a great deal.

"How does the evening fare for you?" Imrahil asked once he had accepted a glass of wine. He surveyed the young king closely.

Eomer shrugged. "I am as well as I can be," He replied honestly. He gestured to a small crowd of ladies all of whom were eyeing him speculatively and giggling. "I would have them leave me be however."

Imrahil laughed soundly and clapped his friend on the back. "I am afraid that until you marry you will have to put up with that, my friend!"

Eomer rolled his eyes. "You sound like my councillors," He shook his head. "It's all they seem to talk about. They do not realise that when I marry, it will be to a woman that I love and can picture myself being with for the rest of my life. Marriage is no trifling thing."

Imrahil nodded. "You are right of course," He smiled sadly. "My love for my late wife Iriven was so strong that even now five years later I know with utmost certainty that I will not marry again. But Eomer," He paused. "If you should find a woman you think you could marry, you should do so quickly. You cannot be sure of how much time you will have together."

Eomer agreed and the two men sat for a while in companionable silence until Imrahil cleared his throat awkwardly. Eomer glanced at him suspiciously. "Come, what is the matter?" He demanded sensing Imrahil was hiding something.

Imrahil hesitated. "Do you remember me telling you about...my daughter?" Eomer nodded vaguely recalling the conversation. "Well, she is here tonight with my ward, her cousin Silarien and I would have you meet them both."

"Of course," Eomer agreed politely. "If she is anything like her father and brothers than I would be honoured."

Imrahil beamed suddenly; the happiness lighting his face and banishing his wrinkles momentarily. He inclined his head and moved away, his eyes searching for his daughter amongst the crowd. The musicians had started a new tune and couples were beginning to take to the floor to dance.

A flash of scarlet caught Imrahil's eye and he smiled as he glimpsed Lothiriel's red gown. No other Gondorian maiden would think of wearing such a bold colour to a banquet but Lothiriel did seem to do things her own way. In some ways he thought it was the absence of a mother for five years; Lothiriel had been so grieved by her mother's death that Imrahil had not the heart to order her about. Instead he had watched helplessly as his angel girl had withdrawn into herself and refused to speak to anyone but Silarien. But no – this was not the time for solemn remembrances.

He assured Eomer he would return quickly and hastened after the two young women. Lothiriel was sitting in the corner with a glass of red wine speaking and Silarien was trying valiantly to stifle her laughter. Both leapt up when they saw Imrahil approach.

"Daughters," He addressed them. "Will you come with me? I would like you to meet somebody?"

Lothiriel sighed. "It is not some odious lord with aspirations to my hand is it Father?" She shared a wry glance with Silarien. "I think I have had enough of them to last fifty years."

Imrahil raised his eyebrows and both girls began to follow him across the hall to where Eomer was watching the dancing; an ambiguous expression on his face as he watched Faramir whirl a radiant Eowyn around.

"This is one of my dearest friends," He explained. It was his daughter's turn to raise her eyebrows. They neared Eomer and Imrahil lowered his voice. "Be polite Lothiriel."

She did not say anything but smiled sweetly. Imrahil cleared his throat and Eomer looked up. Imrahil beckoned the women forward and both sank into a swift curtsey. "Eomer, this is my daughter Lothiriel," Lothiriel gave a charming smile. Eomer inclined his head. "And my ward, Silarien."

Eomer studied both women carefully without appearing to do so. The Princess, Lothiriel was tall and slender with long dark brown hair, almost black that fell in waves down her back. She had sharp grey eyes, smooth skin with hints of freckles, a snub nose and pretty mouth. Beautiful, he thought, in a natural, becoming way.

The Lady Silarien was black-haired as most of the women of Minas Tirith and her eyes were wide and grey; almost innocent looking. Her features were thinner than Lothiriel's but he decided she was no less beautiful albeit in a different way. Imrahil had mentioned his ward; the daughter of his late wife's cousin who had been orphaned as a baby and brought to her only relatives at Dol Amroth. The Prince's children had grown up with her and he thought Lothiriel and Silarien seemed like sisters in the way they held themselves.

There was silence for a few moments until Imrahil spoke. "I must speak with my son for a while, please excuse me."

The three watched him walk off swiftly and suddenly Lothiriel laughed. Eomer started; it was a pretty sound; light and airy. She sounded like the sort of person who laughed a lot. "Not particularly subtle," She remarked to her father's back. "I wonder when he will start writing the wedding invitations."

Eomer frowned. "I'm sorry?"

She turned to face him; her cool grey eyes meeting his dark blue ones. "My father," She explained as if to a child. "Thinks that by leaving us here you will marry one of us."

Eomer looked from a blushing Silarien to a confident Lothiriel and found a laugh of his own emerging. "But why?" He asked amused.

Lothiriel sighed. "Why does anything happen?" She asked. "Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green?"

Eomer blinked and she smiled widely. Suddenly she picked up one of Silarien's curls. "Do you like Silarien's hair?" She asked Eomer innocently but with a gleam in her eye. "I did it myself."

Silarien blushed even darker and pulled away. "Lothiriel!" She hissed.

Fortunately a young lord approached them and asked Silarien to dance. She accepted gratefully after casting Lothiriel a final black look to the other girl's amusement.

"She has a lot of admirers," Observed Lothiriel presently. She looked up at Eomer. "I do not begrudge her that; Silarien is my closest friend but it does make it a little awkward when I stand alone to the side."

Eomer bit back a smile at Lothiriel's mock serious face. "You are not alone now." He pointed out.

"No I am with you and I bet my father is hugging himself with glee at this point," She answered dryly. "I suppose you know I am the highest ranking unmarried woman in Gondor at the moment?"

"No I did not know."

"Well I am and you are the highest ranking unmarried man."

"Am I?" His tone was of light amusement.

"Yes unfortunately you are," She paused and pursed her pretty lips. Eomer was distracted for a moment. He had never seen such a lovely mouth! "Do you see what I am saying?"

"Mm?"

She stared up at him, irritated. "Do you want to marry me?"

"What?" Since when had they been talking about marriage?

"Exactly! But my father wishes it very much," She laughed. "He thinks we would suit each other."

"How can he think that? We don't even know each other." Although Eomer was beginning to like this particular Gondorian maiden very much.

"Believe me, trying to explain that to the council of Dol Amroth is like trying to tell Amrothos to stop going after every pretty girl he sees," Eomer had to grin at that. He had met Amrothos and his brothers. "Basically impossible."

"Do not worry my lady," He assured her. "If we do not wish to marry each other than no one in Middle Earth can make us."

She smiled. "Truly?"

He returned her sweet smile. "Truly."

Later that evening he sat with Eowyn by the fire in her chamber. She was almost asleep but he wanted to enjoy her company for a little longer before retiring himself. She was humming softly and tracing the patterns in her dress, head tilted back and hair glowing in the low firelight. Eomer watched her tenderly for a few minutes.

"Eowyn?"

"Mm?"

He paused. It was the sort of question he would only ever ask his sister. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

**Please review, let me know what you think! Thanks**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two! Enjoy!**

The next day Lothiriel rose early. She was not usually the kind to rise before the sun much preferring to stay in bed until the last possible moment but the pale grey sky before dawn was so enticing that she quickly dressed. The larks were just beginning their morning song. She was glad it was summer.

The servants were about but she was not questioned as she made her way to the garden. The town-house garden in Minas Tirith was not her sea but it was quiet and she had always loved the peace it brought her. There was no one else around.

She walked slowly past the flowerbeds planted lovingly side by side; red roses, pink tulips, yellow sunflowers, purple pansies. She remembered as a child coming to Minas Tirith and begging to be allowed to plant a flower. Now she did not think she would be able to remember which one she had planted.

At breakfast she was quiet; letting her brothers, Silarien and her father talk. Of course Erchirion, sensitive, perpetually perceptive Erchirion noticed. "What's the matter Lothiriel?" He inquired passing her the sugar that she had asked for. "Are you sulking?"

Why did they always assume she was sulking just because she was quiet? "No." She replied shortly. "I'm just tired." It was the truth but she couldn't be bothered to explain.

"I noticed you and King Eomer getting on quite well last night," Remarked Silarien nonchalantly buttering her toast. Lothiriel's eyes promised revenge but Silarien merely grinned. "Do you like him?"

Imrahil immediately interjected. "Yes Lothiriel, what did you think of him?"

As Silarien smirked behind her cup of tea, Amrothos observed with a twinkle in his eye, Erchirion looked falsely uninterested, Elphir stared with unabashed interest and her father beamed hopefully down at her, Lothiriel thought she would rather have been a million miles away from Minas Tirith at that moment.

Yes, he was pleasant enough and reasonably good-looking she supposed but her father knew exactly what she thought about arranged marriages and the fact that in Gondor, a woman belonged to her father.

"Lothiriel?" Imrahil prompted. What did he want her to say for goodness' sake?

"Actually I thought he had the manners of a troll and the face of an Orc." She snapped. She stood and swept out of the room. When would they understand she was a human with her own thoughts, not just an object to be sold and kept?

She would have thought that after everything her father would not be so eager for her to marry. It was not as if she was ancient! Lothiriel loved her father dearly but he was so...frustrating...sometimes. He always assumed he knew what was best for her when really he knew nothing. She would marry when she was good and ready, to a man that she loved and who loved her. She would not be part of some political deal.

Imrahil was sat in his study watching the streets below him determinedly ignoring the files in his hands. He had promised King Elessar to have read them by tomorrow but he thought he deserved a little break after three hours of solid work. He relished the physical side; watching Minas Tirith flourish under the capable hands of the king but he never could bear all the writing and reading and shutting himself away for hours.

A few minutes later he was surprised but not displeased to see Eomer strolling purposely towards his house. Curious he watched Eomer hesitate before knocking loudly and greeting the servant. Imrahil leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. This should be interesting, he thought.

Hours before

Eomer was up with the sun. Some habits were impossible to shake off. He dressed within moments and decided to explore the gardens of the King's house. Aragorn had told him Arwen had already done much to improve them and he had always loved the peace pretty gardens gave.

The Queen's Garden was no disappointment with paths, trees, bushes, flowers and an ornamental pond. Eomer sat beside the pond and stretched shaking off the last remnants of sleep. He stared down into the clear water watching the lively goldfish frolic. Someone had dropped a coin in. Perhaps to make a wish. The silver glinted in the early sunlight.

Like the glint of Lothiriel's grey eyes. He didn't know why he remembered them so much; everyone in Gondor had grey eyes but there was something about their clearness. They were intelligent, sharp, assessing and cool but he thought he sensed something deep within them. A hidden emotion, sadness, bitterness?

He should have known Imrahil would try and get them together. Even Aragorn had mentioned her as a potential bride. But Eomer, fresh with grief and the burdens of restoring a ruined country had ignored him. He had no time to find a wife. Still had no time. All his life he had assumed he would marry a Rohirric woman and settle down in Aldburg. But he had also assumed he would be deeply in love with his wife. When he had become king and all his advisors were picking out suitable women he realised that they did not care in the slightest whether he even liked the women. He realised kings could not always marry for love.

So why not Lothiriel? He did not deny her dry words and unconscious grace last night had captivated him. What woman in Minas Tirith had spoken to him so boldly? But she clearly did not care for a political alliance. Would Imrahil be able to persuade her? No, what was he thinking? He did not want to marry Lothiriel; she would be wild and fiery; he needed someone calm and collected. Ah, why were things so confusing? He had only met the woman last night!

Eowyn's advice the previous evening had not been particularly helpful either. "A few months ago I would have said no certainly," She had mused in response to his question. "But now?" She smiled. "I think so yes. Indeed I was drawn to Faramir immediately although I would not have said I was deeply in love when first I laid eyes on him. I suppose it depends. I think you can be immediately attracted to somebody and later find out they were all you thought them to be." She stopped suddenly glancing at him suspiciously. "Why do you wish to know anyway?"

He had shrugged and made some casual remark but her sleepy eyes had sharpened suddenly and he had retired soon after.

Now this morning he tried to clear his thoughts. No he did not love Lothiriel, he was attracted to her certainly; she was a beautiful, amusing lady. So what? He had been attracted to women before. He did not have this problem of wondering whether to marry them or not!

Yes, he needed a wife. No one in his council would be able to sleep easily at night until he had about six sons. He definitely needed a wife for that. Yes, Lothiriel was the most suitable lady politically for that position. Yes, he happened to like her as well. Yes, Imrahil was his friend and it would be no terrible thing to be closely related.

He groaned and rolled on to his back. His mind had been made up. He would apply to Imrahil for her hand. It would silence his councillors; at least for a while and it would bring Eowyn, Aragorn and Imrahil some peace. He knew the former was eager that he should marry and not be alone when she married Faramir and came to Gondor. Aragorn thought marriage was the best thing since, well since anything and wanted everyone to experience it. Imrahil obviously thought Lothiriel would suit Eomer. Eomer grinned. She had certainly represented a challenge last night. He did like a challenge. Peeling back all her layers would take a few years, he thought and that made him smile even more.

He stood and smoothed his tunic. After breakfast he would go to Imrahil's town-house and speak with him. It was decided.

Imrahil sat up and tidied his desk as the servant announced the arrival of the King of Rohan. He did not want it to seem as if he had done nothing all morning. A guilty thought flickered through his mind. The papers would have to be done that evening. He sensed a lengthy discussion with Eomer was coming.

"Brandy?" Imrahil offered. Eomer nodded gratefully and Imrahil perused him from the corner of his eye. He seemed almost agitated. Eomer accepted the brandy and downed it in one to the surprise of Imrahil. "Are you well Eomer?" He inquired.

Eomer laughed without humour. "Yes, thank you I am well," He replied. He paused for several long moments. "Last night your daughter made me aware of how exactly things stood."

Imrahil said nothing. Eomer coughed awkwardly. "As in," He continued slowly. "You would like it very much if I were to marry Lothiriel."

Imrahil hid a smile. "I must confess Eomer that I would like that very much. To my mind Lothiriel is ready for marriage and she adores children. You know I left her in charge of Dol Amroth during the war?" Eomer started. He did not picture the carefree girl he had met last night as a ruler in such dark times. Imrahil chuckled at his surprise. "Yes, she was very capable. I am extremely proud of her. It was one of the reasons I thought she would make you such a good wife."

"One of the reasons?"

"Eomer," Began Imrahil. "Please do not think I presume to know you best. But I am your friend and you must admit that you are quite similar to Lothiriel."

"_I_ would not presume to know _her_ well enough to say that." Replied Eomer.

"Of course not," Agreed Imrahil. "But I do," He hesitated and looked down into his glass. "Though you may not see it Lothiriel has had her share of pain and sorrow. When her mother died," He stopped and sighed. "When Iriven died, Lothiriel was only fifteen. She was forced to see things that no child of fifteen should see. It damaged her for a while."

"What do you mean?" Eomer asked gently. It evidently caused Imrahil great sorrow and he wondered if he would want to talk about it to ease whatever burden it was.

But Imrahil shook his head firmly. "It is not my story to tell. Perhaps one day you shall know but until then you must be satisfied with what I have told you."

They sat quietly for a while. Finally Imrahil asked, "So why have you come, apart from to drink my brandy?"

Eomer stiffened. "It is...personal."

"Should I be worried?" Laughed Imrahil. Eomer smiled weakly.

"I do not think so," He answered. "You see...I wish to make an offer for your daughter."

Imrahil almost spat out the brandy he had just drunk. Eomer slapped him on the back guiltily. "Imrahil, are you all right?" He asked when the coughing subsided.

Imrahil, now purple-faced wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. "But why in the name of the Valar would you do that?" He asked in amazement.

Eomer was surprised. "I thought that's exactly what you wanted me to do?"

"I thought you would get to know each other first!" He shook his head in bemusement. "I may look like a dragon Eomer, but I would not make my daughter marry a stranger!"

"So you are saying no?" Eomer didn't understand the sinking feeling in his stomach as if he had just been told something terrible had happened.

"I'm saying that you are being a little hasty, are you not?"

Eomer shrugged. "The Mark needs a queen, I need a wife. I had thought I would want to love my wife before I married but I believe that if I wedded Lothiriel love would surely grow. I have thought long about this both last night and this morning. I like her I think and she is, as you have said, certainly capable." Despite his feelings that this was right, it sounded mercenary and selfish to his own ears.

Imrahil paused for what seemed like an age. "I know my daughter must marry soon," He began at last. "And you are the only man that I would trust her with," He hesitated. "But you should be warned she may be... slightly unwilling at first. Give her time and I will persuade her. She knows you are an honourable man and she is not stupid although she can be foolhardy," He hesitated again. "Just...give me time and talk with her. She will come to know you when we are in Rohan I suppose."

Eomer nodded. "So I am now betrothed I suppose?" He grinned. The words tasted strangely in his mouth.

"I suppose you are."

**Thank you for the lovely reviews so far, they make me really happy! Please let me know what you think about this chapter as I'm not too sure about it to be honest. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Enjoy!**

For half an hour after Eomer left Imrahil remained in his study. He knew he'd have to tell Lothiriel that day before everyone found out. She would sulk and scream and fly into a rage but it was done now. Maybe it wasn't the best way but a good, honourable man whom Imrahil respected and admired had asked to marry his daughter. Lothiriel was of the age and disposition that she needed a husband. Who better than a trusted friend?

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He'd better get it over and done with.

It was another hot summer afternoon. Lothiriel's long dark hair hung loosely down her back and she wished she had thought to braid it when she rose. She flipped it behind her shoulder impatiently as she knelt down in the dewy grass still covered by the shade of the old oak tree. She had come out here this morning and dropped her bracelet, she was almost certain. It would be hidden in the folds of long grass somewhere.

She glanced around quickly for a while hoping to spot a sudden gleam of silver and blue. At last she found it next to a slug. Cringing she picked up a stick and flung the slug away before gingerly taking the bracelet and inspecting it. It was clean still; the silver chain bright and the light blue silk winding through it unblemished.

Smiling she stood and slipped it on her wrist. She would never have forgiven herself for losing it. The pretty bracelet had been a gift from her mother.

For a moment the yellow sun disappeared behind a lone cloud and the air became pleasantly warm instead of burning hot. Encouraged by the sound of clear running water from the fountain and the boiling stone under her feet, Lothiriel decided to walk for a while in the garden.

Imrahil dragged his feet through the corridor following the sound of voices from the library. He hoped he could persuade his daughter to speak with him in private. It would not do for the servants to hear the outburst that would surely follow.

He knocked briskly and entered. His heart sank. It was only Silarien and Amrothos in the library. They stood in surprise as he entered and his face twisted into a grimace. He had just worked himself up to confronting Lothiriel. Now it would seem his search had to continue.

"I don't suppose either of you have seen Lothiriel?" He inquired hopefully.

"Sorry Father," Amrothos replied evenly. He gestured out of the window. "Perhaps she's in the stables?"

Imrahil frowned. He was not sure whether he approved of Lothiriel spending so much time in the stables. It was a fine thing to admire horses but his daughter also seemed rather fond of talking to them and brushing them.

He left the library and made his way determinedly to the stables. He would speak with Lothiriel and she **would** be respectful.

Well, a father could dream.

The courtyard of the stables was almost empty apart from the odd stable-boy bustling about with a saddle or two in his arms. Imrahil scanned the courtyard but he could not see Lothiriel. He supposed that meant she was actually inside with the horses.

He pushed open the door slowly and called his daughter's name. It was light inside the stables with the familiar smell of horse and the stomp of hooves.

A dark-haired person was standing in a stall with a restless horse but it was not Lothiriel. Imrahil growled under his breath. Was it his fate that day to encounter each one of his offspring except the one he actually wanted?

Erchirion looked up when he heard his father's voice. "Father?" He called in surprise stepping out of the stall. "What are you doing here?"

Imrahil raised his eyebrows. "I could ask you the same question. Aren't you supposed to be halfway to Dol Amroth by now? I am certain that is what I asked of you."

Erchirion has the grace to look ashamed. "Yes Father," He admitted. "But it was such a fine day and I hate travelling in summer so when I saw Saeldur was a little restless it was too easy to delay for a while."

"A while? You should have left hours ago."

Erchirion grinned awkwardly. "Ah yes, but –,"

"– No excuses Erchirion!" Interrupted his father sternly. "I need you to represent me in Dol Amroth."

"Can you not send Elphir?"

Imrahil crossed his arms and frowned. "No I certainly cannot. He is needed here," He made to start walking back out of the stables and then remembered why he had come there in the first place. "Do you know where Lothiriel might be?"

Erchirion's blank face was all the answer he needed and struggling to maintain his composure Imrahil stormed out of the stables. Was it so much to ask to get this over and done with as smoothly and painlessly as possible?

Lothiriel waltzed through the hall singing cheerfully under her breath, swiftly grabbing a pear from the basket. Biting into the juicy flesh she jangled her bracelet on her arm, to remind herself it was still there almost. As she skipped out of the hall she nearly collided with her father. His tired face lit up and then dropped. He placed a heavy arm on her shoulder and led her away wordlessly.

"Father, what's the matter?" She asked, confused. "Where are we going?"

Imrahil checked his study was empty and beckoned her inside. Lothiriel followed, extremely puzzled. Her father was not one to act in riddles usually.

Imrahil sat down. "Lothiriel," He drummed his fingers on his desk. His daughter watched blankly. "Lothiriel –," He stopped suddenly.

Lothiriel sat also. "Father, are you quite well? Would you like me to get you something?" She inquired in concern. Imrahil stared at her blankly before shaking his head hastily.

"No no, stay here!" He demanded. "Please."

Lothiriel nodded. "So what do you wish to speak with me about?"

"Nothing in particular." Imrahil frowned.

"Ah," Lothiriel sat silently for a moment before standing. "May we have this conversation about nothing in particular in the library then? It's starting to get cold in here."

She made to leave but Imrahil sprang from his chair and cried, "No!"

Extremely surprised and worried now Lothiriel eyed him warily. Where on earth was her calm, serene father able to deal with any crisis? He had been replaced by a pale, fidgety creature that could not seem to speak the truth.

Both resumed their seats and Imrahil sought to explain, "People might be in there still."

Lothiriel frowned deeply. "Does it matter that people will be there?"

"Very much so."

"Will you not explain what all this is about Father?" Lothiriel pleaded. "You are scaring me."

He gazed down into his daughter's face and sighed. "Very well," He conceded and sighed again. "You like children, do you not?"

"Of course I do."

"And you have no aversion to the thought of one day perhaps having them yourself?"

"Not at all." But Lothiriel's heart began to sink a little. She prayed to all the gods there were that this was not what she was starting to think it was...

"So how you would you feel if I had told you, in theory, shall we say that I had arranged your marriage?" Imrahil held his breath.

Lothiriel felt as if time stood still for a thousand, ten thousand, million years. The streets grew thick with dust, the wood rotted into the earth and the bones of the dead became nothing. But she was still there, in the study of her father, in Minas Tirith hearing the words she had only ever heard before in her nightmares. _Arranged marriage. Arranged marriage. Arranged marriage_. She had seen such things before. Minas Tirith was full of the patient, obedient and secretly broken wives who were forced to ignore their selfish, dishonourable husbands and their indiscretions. There was no love to be had in arranged marriages. The King and Queen of Gondor had not had an arranged marriage and the kingdom was all the better for it! Their love shone through the stilted, formal ceremonies enchanting all present and inspiring them.

Love could not be arranged.

But before she could even gather her thoughts to ask who she was marrying, a servant knocked on the door and announced the arrival of the king of Rohan. Imrahil groaned loudly and stood, turning to face the window rather than the door. If it had been princely to do so, he would have banged his head against it in utter frustration!

Lothiriel stood also at the entrance of the king and curtseyed briefly. She was too occupied in her mind to offer verbal greeting and hoped the king would leave quickly so she could interrogate her father further.

Eomer awkwardly took in the scene before him. An obviously aggravated Imrahil stood with his back to him, head pressed against the glass of the window. Princess Lothiriel was standing with pale cheeks, unfocused eyes and a steely set of her chin. She had curtseyed to him briefly but had seemed to be thinking of something else. Ah...he wondered if this was what he thought it was...but if it was, the Princess clearly did not know yet who she was betrothed to otherwise he thought he might have received a slightly less cordial greeting.

"My lady," Eomer bowed slightly to Lothiriel trying to think what to do or say. He turned to Imrahil. "Imrahil, are you all right?"

The prince turned around slowly, his usually tranquil face a picture of impatience, irritation and was that...fear?

"Eomer," Imrahil mumbled in a choked voice. "What are you doing here again?"

Lothiriel's head jerked up in surprise. "Again?" She asked. "You came before?"

"I was here earlier." Replied Eomer truthfully. Lothiriel's eyes narrowed but Imrahil swiftly stepped between the two of them. He shot Eomer a warning with his eyes before smiling widely at his suspicious daughter.

"Now Lothiriel –," Imrahil held his hands up in an attempt to placate his daughter.

But suddenly Lothiriel understood and her face dropped. She took a step backwards and glared at her father with the look of a wildcat. "No..." She mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief. "You would not have, surely?"

She turned to face Eomer who was now looking distinctly guilty. "Him?" She demanded of her father. "You want me to marry _him_?"

Eomer suddenly felt extremely annoyed. "What's wrong with that?" He asked defensively. "Lots of women would be happy to be my queen."

Lothiriel stared at him as if he was mad. "Why on this earth did you not ask one of them then?"

Eomer could not deny it was a good question. And one he was not sure he had an answer to. Fortunately at that moment Imrahil re-entered the conversation. "I believe I will leave you two for a little while," He paused warily and backed away slowly to the door. "So you may get to know each other a little better." With that he abruptly turned and hurried from the room, shutting the door forcefully behind him. Both Eomer and Lothiriel watched him leave with the same bewildered look on their faces.

Slowly Lothiriel faced her betrothed with an expression that told Eomer exactly what she thought of him. However instead of remaining angry, he felt amused more than anything. At least his married life would not be boring; he thought and had to suppress a grin.

"You said," Lothiriel began. "You said last night that you did not want to marry me," She frowned. "Why did you change your mind?"

Eomer considered and found he did not really have an answer. "You must admit, it makes sense." He replied.

Her frown deepened. "It makes sense to walk a short distance instead of using a carriage; that does not necessarily mean one always does so!" She retorted.

"Actually I prefer to ride."

She scowled. "Don't try and be funny," She warned. "It won't endear you to me."

"Then what will?" It was fun to taunt her. Her sweet, snub nose betrayed her angry looks and made her seem a mere, irritated kitten.

"Leave me alone!"

"Lothiriel," Eomer took a step towards her. "I know this is rather sudden," She snorted at this but let him continue. "But I think we could be happy. You are coming to Rohan are you not?" She nodded reluctantly. "Then we shall have time to get to know each other then. The truth is," He hesitated. "The truth is I do need to marry soon. My advisors keep reminding me I am the last male descendant of the House of Eorl. Until now I had ignored them but being here and seeing Eowyn with Faramir, Aragorn with Arwen and meeting you, has made me realise perhaps the next thing on the list should be 'find a wife.'" He stopped and grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to make such a speech."

She shrugged elegantly. "It does not matter to me, I did not listen anyway," He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She stepped forwards and lowered her voice. "I refuse to be treated like an object; passed from one owner to another without anybody considering my feelings. I refuse to marry you, I refuse to be polite to you and I refuse to accept this without fighting back," She stepped back and smiled. "So game on, my lord."

She waltzed from the room, long hair swinging behind her. Eomer watched her leave with a mix of reluctant respect, amusement and almost _hunger_. He smiled to himself.

Game on?

It certainly was.

**So...chapter 3! I hope you liked it, it was fun to write ;)**

**Please review! When I get reviews I feel happier and when I feel happier I write more and when I write more I post more... ;D**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter's a bit longer than usual, ten pages on Word! **

"Eomer are you mad?" Eowyn slammed her glass down on the table and stood, running her hands through her hair in utter agitation. "Are you completely out of your mind?" She was drawing the attention of the other guests but at that moment Eomer saw she could not care less.

"Eowyn, sit down," She obeyed him but not without a fierce look on her fair face. She turned to Faramir for support. "Will you not tell him?"

Faramir bit his lip. "It does sound a little strange Eomer. Why did you ask after such a short acquaintance with her?"

Eomer sighed. "I told you both before, I do not know. All I am certain of is that I need a wife, Lothiriel seemed like fun so I asked her –," He was interrupted by Eowyn's splutter.

"You asked Princess Lothiriel to marry you because she seemed like _fun_?" Eowyn's voice said it all. Eomer wondered idly when his quiet, sunny little sister with long golden plaits and gappy teeth had grown into such a scolding, independent woman.

Eomer exchanged glances with Faramir. "Not just because of that!" He insisted. "But if I have to marry a lady, I might as well marry one that I like."

Eowyn glared at Faramir. "You agree with me don't you?" Faramir shifted in his seat. He was however saved from answering by the arrival of Aragorn and Arwen. They were holding a small, intimate meal that night in the King's House. The next day it would be time for the Rohirrim to leave Minas Tirith with the wain carrying their fallen king's body for burial.

"Is all well?" Inquired Aragorn, getting his queen a seat and then taking one himself. He shot Eomer a quizzical look.

Eowyn bristled. "No, all is not." She replied boldly. Eomer had been surprised that during her short time in Minas Tirith Eowyn had struck up a close friendship with the King and especially Queen of Gondor but so she had.

"Eomer?" Aragorn addresses his friend with a hint of humour in his deep voice. "I believe it concerns you?"

Eomer sighed. He had wanted to tell his friend in private but he supposed he didn't have that choice now. He glanced around. Eowyn was scowling, Faramir was grinning openly, Queen Arwen was smiling softly with wisdom shining in her eyes and Aragorn was concealing a look of mirth. Eomer got the impression Aragorn knew the gist of what had been going on. "I have asked Imrahil's daughter, the Princess Lothiriel to be my wife," He mumbled, looking at the floor. Eowyn hid a growl. "And she said yes."

He looked up and the Queen of Gondor was frowning in confusion. "Did she?" She asked gently.

Eomer groaned inwardly. Trust an Elf to know he was slightly twisting the truth. "Very well, Imrahil said yes. I got the impression the Princess was a little unwilling." He admitted.

"And you're going to force her." And trust Eowyn to make it so...blunt.

"Not force her!" Eomer replied quickly. "Persuade her. You know me," He grinned at his sister fondly. "I like a challenge."

"The Prince's family have not yet arrived," Arwen glanced at the table. "When it is time for the meal I will see that the two of you are seated together." Eomer was surprised at this show of solidarity. He had heard nothing but praise about the Queen from his sister but he had never been able to reconcile his image of a stately, beautiful Elven Queen with the picture Eowyn painted of a fun, witty friend. Now however he began to.

"And there will be dancing too," Aragorn pointed out. He considered. "I do not believe I was formally introduced to the Princess at the banquet the other night. There were so many guests wishing to speak with me I do not think there was time. However tonight I shall be able to speak with her myself." He gave Eomer a pointed look. Eomer was shamed into a light blush although he thanked his Northern tan for hiding it. He didn't need reminding just how perceptive Aragorn was. He would know more about Lothiriel in five minutes than anyone else could know in five years.

Soon after the King and Queen left to speak with Legolas and Gimli who were already seated by the ale. "I will also speak with Princess Lothiriel tonight," Warned Eowyn. "If I like her, I will warn her away from you, and if I do not I will refuse to let you marry her." She glanced at Faramir and her gaze softened a little. However her voice was still hard and unyielding. "Will I like her?" She demanded.

Faramir thought for a while. "I like her very much," He offered. "At least, she is my favourite cousin and I think of her as the sister I never had. She is rather reckless I admit, but she looked after Dol Amroth well during the war."

Eowyn seemed interested. "Would you describe her as a good sort of woman?" She asked.

Faramir nodded. "Certainly. She is kind and compassionate although she can be sharp and a little impatient. She lost her mother when she was fifteen," His face darkened. "The poor girl suffered greatly and Imrahil was broken. But that is passed now and she recovered. There was a time," He stopped. Eowyn leaned closer and took his hand. Eomer ignored this and pressed Faramir to continue. "There was a time when she was filled with grief and it seemed the darkness would never lift from her heart but the War started and there was no time for dwelling in sadness. She was forced to think only of the present, of keeping the city day by day alive until it was over."

Eowyn started to speak but just at that moment a herald announced the arrival of the Lord of Dol Amroth and his family. The three of them got to their feet and Eomer glimpsed dark brown hair braided in a crown around a pretty head. He swallowed nervously. He replayed the last conversation they had had; in Imrahil's study the day before yesterday. He remembered her vow that she would not marry him. The fierce light in her eyes had been magnificent.

Aragorn and Arwen greeted them and then the family were free to move around the hall as they wished. "Come along," Eowyn walked ahead, beckoning to Faramir. "I wish to meet her."

Faramir shot Eomer an apprehensive look and Eomer's throat tightened. For some reason it mattered very much that his sister liked his betrothed. He realised he wanted them to be friends.

"Lothiriel!" Faramir called. She turned around and beamed as she saw her cousin. Her smile faded when she observed Eomer beside him and returned with a curious edge as she spotted Eowyn. It seemed the hint of stone in Eowyn's gaze was not enough to discomfort her. Eomer's respect for the lady grew. He had known Eowyn to reduce a battle-hardened Rider to tears with either words or a sword. Faramir gestured to Eowyn with a loving smile. "Lothiriel, this is the Lady Eowyn of Rohan," Eowyn inclined her head. "Eowyn, this is my favourite cousin, Princess Lothiriel, Imrahil's daughter."

"Lady Eowyn, I am very happy to meet you," Lothiriel curtseyed gracefully. She grinned at Faramir. "First name terms Faramir?" She raised her eyebrows. Faramir coughed and smiled.

Eowyn's eyes lightened but she did not smile. "You are not honoured?" She asked abruptly.

Lothiriel's eyes darkened in confusion. "I am sorry?"

"Most of the Gondorians say they are honoured to meet me and throw in some little anecdote about the Witch King." Replied Eowyn. Eomer could have throttled his sister. She was obviously testing Lothiriel who seemed blissfully unaware that she stood on the edge of a cliff in the darkness. One wrong step and she would plummet to the rocks below where no one could return from.

Lothiriel spoke evenly. "You may assume I am honoured to meet you, Lady Eowyn," She answered reasonably. "As for the Witch King, why would I wish to speak of it? I am sure you must know more than me as you were actually there, or so I am told." There was a glint in her eye and Eomer wondered if she was as unaware as she had seemed before.

There was a charged silence and suddenly Eowyn threw back her head and laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. She clutched Faramir's shoulders and wept in mirth, laughing silently when she lost her breath. Eomer and Faramir both stared down at her in astonishment but Lothiriel watched with a smile playing on her lips although she did not laugh herself.

Eventually Eowyn recovered and straightened up, wiping tears from her face. "Oh Lothiriel!" She gasped. "I think we will be very good friends!" She did not look at Eomer but instead took her new friend's arm and began to lead her away saying, "Come, let us find Arwen and have a good talk."

When they had left Faramir chuckled. "What?" Eomer snapped, not in the mood for Faramir's humour.

Faramir shook his head. "I think now is when Eowyn warns her away from you."

Eomer sighed. "Princess Lothiriel does not need any warning. She doesn't want to marry me anyway."

Faramir's eyes widened. "Really?" He asked sounding surprised. "I thought you exaggerated."

"I wish I had but if anything she seemed almost disgusted with the idea," He rubbed his forehead. "She's determined not to, you know."

"Not to marry you?"

"Yes."

Faramir was silent but then gave another hearty chuckle. He clapped Eomer on the back. "We always want what we cannot have, is it not so?"

Eomer agreed solemnly. "Do you know what I might do to win her over? She is your cousin after all."

"All I can say is that perhaps it would be better to choose a different woman?" Faramir regarded him seriously but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "Lothiriel is a woman who I believe would thrive in marriage but marriage to the right man. She has firm ideas about women's rights and being able to choose her own husband. I think the two of you are rather similar but if she is so unwilling, it may save you a lot of time spent persuading her if you just ask a different lady to be your wife. After all," He added. "The betrothal has not yet been formally announced and will not be for some time."

Eomer could see the sense in the other man's words but how could he explain that out of all the eligible young ladies he had met, the only one he really liked was Lothiriel? "I know you mean well," He answered gratefully. "And you speak true but I would marry someone who I felt certain would be my equal in everything. If we are similar as you say, (and as Imrahil also said) then she would be equal to me in character, personality and ability," He suppressed a sigh. "She is the only lady that has drawn my attention. I do not wish to let her go and spend another ten years searching for another that has the same effect on me."

Faramir nodded. "Just be prepared for a very long time persuading her that is all." He warned.

"Faramir, do you think I am doing the right thing?" Eomer tried not to sound desperate but he was not sure he had succeeded for the older man replied with compassion in his face and voice.

"Eomer, you are a great judge of character and of what is right and wrong. I say trust yourself and let your instincts guide you."

Faramir excused himself and was about to leave when he turned back to Eomer and grinned, "She adores riding!" He hissed and was gone. Eomer smiled to himself and thanked the Valar that Faramir was going to be his brother, not some soft-spoken, silly man with no sense of humour and no idea of how to use a sword. But then he knew Eowyn could not have fallen in love with a fool.

The meal was announced and just as Arwen had promised Eomer found himself seated opposite Lothiriel. The latter turned up her sweet nose when she saw exactly who she was with and immediately turned to her brother Amrothos who was beside her. In return Eomer began to speak with Elphir who was beside him. He wondered if her brothers knew about the betrothal yet. He thought not; Elphir was impeccably polite and did not mention it. However from further down the table Imrahil's ward Silarien; Lothiriel's faithful companion gave him a dark look. It was clear Lothiriel had confided in her. Suddenly amused he smiled warmly at Silarien who immediately looked away in contempt. Well really, he thought, if she was going to be so ridiculous about it...

He sneaked a glance at Amrothos and Lothiriel who were deep in conversation. She was giggling wildly, struggling to stay quiet so as not to attract the attention of her father. Eomer knew Amrothos could be very dry and wondered what he had said to cause Lothiriel to laugh so.

"King Eomer?" Elphir distracted him from his musings. Reluctantly Eomer moved his eyes to the man beside him. "I asked what you think about a new road from Dol Amroth to Lebennin."

Did Elphir really think he cared? "Oh, yes I suppose it would be a good idea." He answered vaguely. The meal was served and there was no time for conversation then. Eomer ate quickly wondering when the dancing would start. He tried to catch Aragorn's eye but the latter was talking to Faramir about something. Annoyed he drank from his goblet. It wasn't even ale, he found to his disgust but some flowery Gondorian wine from the south. What idiot had put that in his cup? He suddenly longed to be home, with the long grass flattened under the hooves of a pounding Firefoot, the cool sun shining brightly above him, the plains stretching on and in the distance a roof shining gold in the afternoon sunshine. He longed for the familiarity of Rohan with the loud voices of his men, shared laughter and a good mug of ale. At least he would begin the long journey home tomorrow. The last journey he would share with his uncle. It would be good to get back to Rohan even under the circumstances.

"Eomer?" Another voice distracted him. It was Amrothos from across the table this time. He had concern in his eyes. "What are you thinking of?"

"Rohan," Eomer answered openly. "I have enjoyed my stay in Minas Tirith," Lothiriel avoided his gaze determinedly. "But I cannot deny it will be a relief to get home."

"Have you any definite plans for Rohan?" Elphir inquired politely. Lothiriel blushed but only Eomer noticed.

"I hope to increase the trade between Rohan and Gondor," He explained nodding at Aragorn who beamed. "We keep sheep in the mountains and nothing is done with the wool. I have heard this is not plentiful in Gondor so Aragorn and I have discussed trading it for things we need in the Mark."

"Could you not trade horses?" Eomer was surprised to hear Lothiriel's voice asking the question. He risked looking at her. She seemed genuinely intrigued. He remembered that she had governed a city for a while. No doubt she was intelligent in matters of state. _Another good reason to marry her_ a little voice in his head said. He ignored it and focused on the question.

"Hopefully in a few years but the herds need time to recover," He clenched his fists under the table with anger but kept his voice calm. "Saruman's filth managed to decimate our herds to a considerable degree but we hope to regain our full strengths in at least three or four years."

Her face was blank but he sensed unspoken compassion. Faramir had said she was compassionate. It seemed she was willing to put aside her dislike of him to sympathise with his plight. But it was not pity he wanted from her. "We will manage," He insisted. "The Eorlingas are a strong people and we have weathered such things before. The harvest promises to be good this year and it gives hope."

She nodded and the conversation veered away from the subject. After the meal the musicians set up their instruments and began to play one of the staid Gondorian dances where all you seemed to do was walk around, touching your partner's hands. Eomer hated them but sensing his chance, he went to look for Lothiriel.

Lothiriel had felt strangely stirred listening to Eomer speak about his homeland. She sensed pride, passion and power in his voice; it seemed to her as if Rohan was him and he was Rohan – the two were bound together. It was clear he loathed what had been done to his country during the War, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his fury she saw fire in his warm blue eyes that had not been there before.

Still she was not prepared to feel anything more than pity. No it was not really pity, but sympathy. She did not think of the Rohirrim as a people that would particularly want or need her pity. From what she knew of them they were proud and would no doubt scorn her for even thinking of them with pity.

Eomer was a good man, she thought and would be a great king. It was just that she did not want to be his queen. If it was different; if she had got to know him and he had asked her first before her father, maybe she would have agreed. But Rohan was far away and she knew almost nothing of it. To be dragged there against her will was angering in itself but the fact that her father had betrothed her to a practical stranger without her consent made her furious. And she was not allowed to tell anyone yet! She had disobeyed and told Silarien who was angry for her. "Don't go along with it," Silarien had advised. "Think of a plan to make King Eomer hate you so much that he won't want to marry you." Lothiriel had been thinking. All she had done was think about it! She had a few plans in her head, it was deciding which would be the most effective, that was the hard bit...

After the meal she had slipped away into a corner looking out for both Amrothos and Eomer. She wanted to be near Amrothos so that if Eomer approached her for a dance, she could claim that Amrothos had already asked her. Her brother could be annoying but he was always useful for things like that. She had a feeling that Eomer certainly would approach her.

"Lothiriel!" A low voice from behind her made her jump but it was only Silarien who settled herself next to Lothiriel. "What are you doing down here?"

Lothiriel ignored the question and instead asked, "Have you seen Amrothos or King Eomer?"

"Amrothos is dancing with Queen Arwen, the Valar know how he managed that," Silarien snorted. "And your king is looking for you. He asked me if I'd seen you."

"He's not _my_ king," Insisted Lothiriel sharply. "What did you tell him?"

"The truth of course," Silarien smirked. "That you were hiding under the banners in the corner so you don't have to dance with him."

Lothiriel stiffened. "You didn't really, did you?"

Silarien chuckled. "No of course not, you idiot. But he _is_ looking for you."

"What did he seem like?"

"What do you mean? He seemed like a giant! He always does with all those muscles and that deep voice! Honestly even after all the jokes Amrothos has told us about him, I still feel scared talking to him."

"You get scared talking to anybody you don't know."

Silarien sniffed. "Not always."

"What shall I do now then?" Demanded Lothiriel a few seconds later.

"I saw Aerion wandering about aimlessly. You could get him to dance with you." Suggested Silarien. Lothiriel mused. Aerion was her brother Amrothos' best friend since childhood and she considered him another older brother. He was always happy to dance with her to save her from unsavoury suitors.

"Can you get him over here?" Lothiriel begged.

Silarien sighed but nodded and slipped out of the corner. Lothiriel sat back, waiting impatiently. She hoped Silarien would hurry; she didn't want to spend the whole evening stuck in the corner behind some banners.

A minute later Aerion, with a big grin on his face poked his head around the banners. "A little bird told me that you wanted to dance." He teased. Lothiriel rolled her eyes but allowed him to lead her out of the corner and on to the dance floor. She avoided everyone's gaze but saw Silarien wink. Stifling a victorious smile she beamed happily at Aerion as they began the dance.

"So," Aerion began as they neared each other and stepped neatly to the side. "What's the matter now?"

"Nothing's the matter." They touched palms and twisted slightly to let the other couples pass by them.

"Really." It wasn't a question so Lothiriel didn't reply.

Aerion raised his eyebrows but the dance gave him no chance to question her further. It ended and Lothiriel decided to make a quick exit to her corner again. However just before she could, a man waylaid her.

Glancing up in annoyance she noticed to her regret the oily-haired son of Lord Firion of Lamedon, Berion had stopped her. He was leering down at her as he always did and she wondered why King Elessar had invited him of all people. "Well, little Princess," He wheezed. She winced as his rancid breath hit her. "Would you care to dance with a lowly lord?" She desperately wanted to say no but if she did not it might attract unwanted attention from a certain king.

"Very well," She allowed him to take her back to the floor and cringed as he touched the small of her back. She would dance with him but she did not have to enjoy it. She surveyed his greasy face. "But touch me and I swear, you will never be able to have children. Do you understand?" She smiled widely. He looked rather frightened and her smile deepened.

The music began and to her horror it was one of the few Gondorian dances that allowed the partners to touch each other. The man was expected to hold the woman's waist whilst she touched his shoulders so he could lead. It seemed the Valar hated her.

Eomer had seen Lothiriel dancing with Amrothos' friend although he didn't know how the man had managed to find her. He had searched the entire hall and asked everybody but no one had seen her. Well, if they had, nobody told him. It was a modest, staid dance but Eomer felt the rage rise inside of him as Aerion leaned in to say something to his pretty partner. To his relief Lothiriel gave a short reply and the dance afforded no more opportunities to talk.

He was just about to ask Lothiriel to dance himself but the untrustworthy man from Lamedon got there before him. Surely Lothiriel would not let this cur dance with her? He sighed as she agreed and the man gave a leering grin. The dance was more intimate than the previous and he gritted his teeth as he saw Lothiriel disgusted face when the man squeezed her waist.

Eomer glanced to his right. Imrahil, Amrothos and Elphir were also watching with narrowed eyes. At last Imrahil spoke to his eldest son, "Elphir, get your sister please." Elphir nodded and started to stride forward but Amrothos held him back.

"It's all right Father, I will rescue her!" He announced gallantly, pushing his sleeves back and shaking his hands deliberately. He began to walk forward purposely into the crowd of dancers. After a while the crowd dispersed and Imrahil began to laugh. Amrothos now held his sister who was also laughing whilst a disgruntled Berion stood with empty arms. With a sniff, he stormed away. Amrothos led Lothiriel over to their father.

"Thank you Amrothos," Lothiriel laughed and curtseyed. Amrothos ruffled her hair affectionately and although she batted his hand away, Eomer saw her smiling. Now was his chance. In front of her father she could hardly refuse. He hoped.

"Lady Lothiriel, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" Eomer inquired courteously. Lothiriel frowned slightly and glanced darkly at her father.

"I think perhaps my lord, I have had enough of dancing for tonight." Her reply was cool and cordial yet he felt irritation from her. Imrahil kept his gaze firmly away from the two of them.

But Eomer was unused to giving up. "You're right my lady," He agreed. Her eyes brightened and he almost felt guilty. Almost. "But perhaps you would accompany me for a short walk in the gardens? It's so hot in here, do you not think?"

Imrahil coughed. Amrothos grinned. Elphir frowned. Lothiriel sighed deeply and loudly. She knew she was beaten. She could not very well refuse him without it looking rather suspicious to her brothers. "That would be lovely, my lord," She replied, lying through her teeth.

Eomer held out his arm and she took it after a moment's hesitation. Victory tasted sweet.

They walked in silence to the door and to Eomer, it felt as if the whole hall was looking at them. At last they reached the quiet of the Queen's Garden. It was a full moon; the white light radiant and pure...like the lady beside him. Eomer quickly got the thought out of his head. He needed to be detached. Otherwise how could he possible face her contempt and remain unaffected?

They walked slowly to the pond that Eomer had lain beside as he made up his mind to ask for Lothiriel's hand. Lothiriel sat on the bench beside it and Eomer followed.

"It's a beautiful night," He commented presently.

"Yes."

She was trying to make it difficult. He would not let her. "My lady, I realise that you do not particularly like me at present," She spluttered but he ignored her. "But the fact remains that we are betrothed and had better start to like each other."

"When did it happen?" She asked.

"When did what happen?"

"When did your heart crumble into dust?" He was surprised to hear such words from her. "It must have happened for you to have accepted a marriage to a woman that you cannot love."

For a minute he was silent, contemplating her words. When he glanced up, her beautiful grey eyes were watching him. He was struck by how much they reminded him of the stars in Rohan. A sudden thought came to him that he had a little bit of home before him now, in Lothiriel's eyes. The reply he had formed was forgotten and he gently took her hand. Holding her clear gaze he placed her hand on his chest, over his beating heart. "I assure you my lady," He spoke quietly. "My heart remains whole." She stared at him for a long moment and then pulled her hand away. She looked to the ground and folded her hands in her lap.

"Why then?" It was a command that she issued and he did not have to ask her what she meant.

"Because I need a wife," He replied honestly. He would not disrespect her with lies. "That first night," He paused thinking how ridiculous he would sound. And yet, what else could he say? "I was...I was drawn to you," She stiffened but said nothing. "The first woman that I had met who I thought I could marry. I know it sounds...unbelievable and foolish but..." He trailed off, unable to explain.

She looked at him squarely. Her jaw was firm. "Do you really think I have not heard those words before? Do you think I have not heard empty, useless compliments before? My lord king, I refuse to marry you. You did not seem to hear me before so perhaps I should repeat myself. I am** not** going to marry you."

With those words she stood up and hurried away, darkness covering her slender form as a cloud obscured the full moon. Eomer was left in the shadow to lament just how much he had wanted to kiss her.

**Well, hope that was all right! As always, pleeeease review and tell me your thoughts! Thanks :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the wait, here's Chapter Five!**

They were silent as they left the City. A funeral wain carried the body of the fallen Theoden King and women wept as they rode solemnly by. Eomer did not weep. He could not. He had no time. There was never any time.

As they rode out of Minas Tirith Eowyn kept close beside him, her face cold and expressionless. He wished he could offer her some comfort but there was nothing he could say that would ease her pain. He knew that.

The tension eased a little as they left the confines of the stone City. Eowyn breathed a huge sigh of relief. She met Eomer's concerned gaze and smiled weakly. "All will be well now," She promised. "I know it. He is coming home."

"For the last time." Eomer replied bitterly. Eowyn reached over and squeezed his hand comfortingly. There were no words.

They rode in comfortable silence for a while. At first Eomer was angry when idle chatter picked up around them but realised he could not expect everybody to ride in absolute silence for two weeks. He was being unreasonable. And not for the first time. His mind wandered back to the previous night. He had gone back to the hall to apologise to Lothiriel but she was nowhere to be found. Imrahil informed him that she had retired. Eomer sighed with his eyes closed. He desperately wanted Lothiriel to like him. He didn't even know why he cared so much. It would be so much easier to speak to Imrahil privately and break it off. But even just thinking of it made him feel cold. No. He could not do that. The thought of not seeing those eyes, those lips, her face bright or dark...it caused him pain. What was wrong with him?

He cleared his throat trying to clear his mind at the same time. Eowyn glanced at him quizzically. He attempted a smile. "You don't have to stay with me you know Eowyn," He offered. "Go and ride with Faramir, if you wish."

She hesitated. "But you will be alone."

Eomer nodded at Aragorn just ahead of them. "I will speak with Aragorn for a while," His sister still hesitated. "Eowyn, I would have you happy." She sighed but leaned over and kissed his cheek before trotting ahead to find Faramir.

Eomer kept his word and rode up to Aragorn but immediately wished he had not. The King of Gondor was exchanging glances with his wife; glances that were passionate and tranquil at the same time, filled with love and care. Eomer felt guilty for interrupting although neither censored him.

Arwen discreetly dropped behind them, sensing Eomer wanted a private word with Aragorn. Eomer thanked her silently. The two men rode in silence for a long time, Eomer feeling calmer in the solid presence of his friend. The sun was not yet hot in the early morning and there was a slight breeze. It lifted Eomer's hair and blew it around his face. To his annoyance he had to keep brushing it back. Aragorn watched in amusement and laughed as Eomer opened his mouth to speak and a few strands of hair flew in. "You need a braid, my friend." He advised, laughingly.

"I tried one once," Eomer grinned. "Eowyn laughed herself almost to death when she saw me. Suffice to say I did not try again," His face sobered. "Although I did consider it later on when I no longer saw her smile and I had forgotten the sound of her laughter."

"Now she laughs enough for the whole of the world," Aragorn reminded Eomer gently. They both looked ahead to where Eowyn rode with Faramir. "Even these days, hard and filled with sorrow though they be, you will find joy at the end."

Eomer nodded. "After the funeral I will announce Eowyn's betrothal to Faramir," He grinned. "It is common knowledge anyway but I want to have something to celebrate."

"And you?" Aragorn inquired. "What of your betrothal?"

"I have not yet spoken to Imrahil about announcing it but it will not be yet. I want the joy to belong to Eowyn alone."

"I did speak to Lothiriel last night," Aragorn continued. "I found a charming, pretty, candid woman with very strong views on feminism."

"Yes, she heartily disagrees with the notion of arranged marriages," Eomer found himself smiling. "I think I admire her for that."

"I do too," Agreed Aragorn. He thought for a moment. "Keep trying whilst you are both in Rohan. Then, if she still finds the idea repulsive perhaps it would be better to let it go," Eomer nodded. Aragorn nudged his shoulder. "Eomer, think lightly of it! Make it a challenge, make this woman fall in love with you. You can do it, but you must ignore her attempts to escape it. She is clever and will have many plans to evade you but always you must smile and tell her that you love her. Do not let yourself become grim and brooding when she rejects you, but laugh at her. I believe with all my heart that she will come to you in the end."

Aragorn laughed a last laugh and cantered ahead. Eomer was left with his thoughts whirring around his head. Aragorn was right. Before he had seen winning over Lothiriel as a challenge, when had the depression taken him? If Aragorn thought he had a chance, he was almost certainly going to win. Yes, he knew Lothiriel would try again and again to get out of it but if he wanted her, he would ignore it. He would show her the only possible way of happiness for her was to marry him. He smiled brightly as the sun shone down on the road beneath Firefoot's hooves. The stone smelled of summer and his heart was light. He would win Lothiriel. What had Aragorn said? Tell her that you love her. Tell her that he loved her? Would it be true? He did not yet know although the little voice in his head was insisting that he had loved Lothiriel since he had first seen her walking through the crowd behind Imrahil to meet him. Had he? Did he?

The sudden wheeze of the wain made him think of his uncle. What would Theoden have said? He suddenly knew his uncle would have said exactly the same as Aragorn. Win her. It would have been amusing for Theoden to have seen, his nephew, usually so successful with the ladies, attempting to court a reluctant woman. Yet when Eomer dwelt on the night before he had sworn that when Lothiriel had literally held his heart in her hand there had been something in the way she trembled, something in the way she had looked at him, that made him think perhaps she might not be so reluctant. If she stopped holding herself back and telling herself she disliked him. He laughed out loud abruptly, winning himself startled looks from the Gondorian nobles riding next to him. Ah Lothiriel, he thought, sweet, beautiful Lothiriel, I will win your heart as you have won mine.

Sweet, beautiful Lothiriel was riding just behind her father and next to Silarien. The sun was beginning to be hot and the early morning mist had all but gone. The sky was such a deep, endless blue. The road was hard beneath her horse but the air was soft and the wind light against her face.

"Are you going to tell me then?" Demanded Silarien, pushing a strand of black hair away from her face impatiently.

"Tell you what?" Lothiriel closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the warm air on her skin.

"About the grand scheme to make King Eomer break off the betrothal."

"Oh that!" Lothiriel sighed. "Well I was thinking about just turning around and racing home but I doubt that I could make it without somebody catching me up. And it is a funeral procession. I never met King Theoden but it would be disrespectful if I just raced off."

"I suppose so. But what will you do?" Silarien rolled her eyes. "You know Lothiriel, you could always just marry him."

For one split second Lothiriel imagined it. A beautiful wedding ceremony in what she imagined Meduseld to look like, binding herself to Eomer, having him kiss her, touch her, being heavy with his child...she shook her head. "No, I can't do that." She replied decisively.

"Why not? He's the most handsome man I think I've ever seen and he's a king. He's a great warrior, he's kind and he's..." Silarien paused. "Well, there's something about him. Something that makes you look at him and no one but him as soon as he walks in the room. A sense of power, I suppose it is," She giggled. "It's attractive, whatever it is."

Lothiriel frowned in disbelief. "Why don't you marry him then?" She snapped.

"I couldn't. It's not me he's in love with." Silarien replied matter-of-factly.

Lothiriel couldn't think what to say. In love with her? "He's not in love with me." She answered firmly. "We hardly know each other."

"Oh Lothiriel that doesn't matter! Not when it's true love!" Silarien sighed longingly. "Don't you believe in love at first sight?"

"Certainly not."

"Well, I do and it was pretty obvious from the first time King Eomer saw you that he was in love. You can't see it because you're too stubborn but I can," There was a silence. "Lothiriel, I know you might not love him but marry him anyway. You always say you want to marry one day and you would grow to love him."

"I can't marry him Silarien," Lothiriel insisted. "It's a matter of principle."

Silarien scoffed. "You just don't want to admit that your father was right! That he does know what's best for you."

"Silarien!" Exclaimed Lothiriel. "You're supposed to be on my side. Will you help me get out of it?"

There was a silence.

"Silarien!"

"Yes, yes fine," Replied the other girl reluctantly. "But I'm not giving you any ideas, you can think of them yourself."

Honestly, thought Silarien, sometimes Lothiriel needed a hit over the head with a bucket. A very large one.

That evening just before sundown the party halted and made camp for the night. Lothiriel was relieved to get out of the saddle. She adored her horse Durion but she was unaccustomed to spending so long in the saddle. Her legs ached uncomfortably and she stretched them, gasping when the muscles protested vehemently.

The tents were set up and the cots laid out. A fire was built as the night approached and sentries were posted. Even now, in the time of peace, caution was required. Lothiriel hastily ate a piece of bread and cheese and asked to retire. Her father, unsurprised after the long day on horseback, agreed readily. Almost asleep already she undressed quickly without a maid and slipped into her bed.

Sleep had almost claimed her when there was a scratching noise at the entrance of the tent. Somebody was outside. Trying to stay calm at the sight of the huge silhouette outside Lothiriel wondered whether to scream.

Just as she was gathering breath however, the visitor announced themselves. "Lothiriel?" A familiar voice whispered. "May I come in?" She expelled all her breath in one long sigh. It was King Eomer.

She gave no answer, knowing he would enter anyway. He did so and gave a small smile. She rolled her eyes and gathered the covers to her neck. "What are you doing here?" She hissed. "If my father catches you –,"

"It's all right, he won't," Replied Eomer cheerfully taking a seat opposite the bed. "I came to see how you were."

"As you can see, I'm extremely tired so if you wouldn't mind –,"

"Faramir said you liked riding but a whole day in the saddle for somebody unused to it is extremely painful."

"You've been talking to Faramir about me?"

Eomer shrugged. "Only briefly."

Lothiriel was torn between asking what else Faramir had said and keeping silent. She cursed Eomer for sitting in her chair so handsomely as if had every right to do so.

"I will take you riding in Rohan," He offered. "It's the best place to ride. You can go on and on for miles in the plains losing yourself with only the sun as your guide."

"I have heard the plains of Rohan described as a sea of grass. Is it true?" Lothiriel also cursed her curiosity.

"It is actually," Eomer smiled, obviously pleased at her interest. "Yes, a sea of grass. I have never seen the real sea."

"Then you have not lived!" Exclaimed Lothiriel with passion. She blushed when Eomer grinned. She felt suddenly angry. She had never blushed so much before!

"Will you tell me?"

She hesitated for a long time but then decided. She adored describing the sea and what harm would it do? "The smell of the sea is the smell of home to me," She began. "The tang of salt and sand, the wisps of the dunes and the smell of the air. And the boats; bright sails all flying proudly in the wind, sailors calling instructions and the gulls crying in the background." She carried on explaining everything she loved about the sea and why she adored it so much. She forgot who she was speaking to throwing herself into the picture she was painting.

When she had finished she was pulled back to the dark tent in Gondor sitting up in bed trying to give the sea to the man opposite her. For a while they merely looked at each other. Then Lothiriel looked away and the spell was broken. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to go on for so long." She apologised.

"I feel as if you had just given me the ocean," He replied gently getting to his feet. He stepped towards her and hesitated before softly smoothing her hair with his large, calloused hand. His warrior's hand. "You're tired," He stepped back. Lothiriel suddenly felt cold without his touch. "I will see you in the morning, love."

He left the tent with one last lingering look. Lothiriel settled her head back down and tried to sleep. It was not until many hours later when she woke abruptly, a nightmare fresh in her mind that she realised he had called her love.

**Thank you so much for all the reviews so far, I apologise if I haven't replied but I've had such a busy few days, it's untrue. Hope you liked this chapter, please review! **

**Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Little bit shorter I think, enjoy anyway!**

The next morning dawn came early. Lothiriel's maid Nárwen woke her and fretted that she had not seen to her mistress the night before. "Hush Nárwen," Soothed Lothiriel as the old lady braided her hair. "It matters not; you needed your rest."

The old woman continued to fret however and Lothiriel was relieved, despite her aching thighs to get back on Durion. She rode close to her father, trying to join in his conversation with Erchirion about various boats. She was determined not to think of last night at all.

Impossible, she realised, sensing Eomer's solid presence behind her. Her back tingled with goosebumps as he called her name but ignoring them, she resolved to be coolly polite. Last night was a moment of weakness, she had decided. She would not be so foolish again.

"How did you sleep?" He asked politely drawing Firefoot next to Durion. The two horses snorted at each other.

"Well, thank you," She glanced around and lowered her voice. "After you had left."

He laughed soundly. "I apologise for keeping you from your sleep my lady," He replied warmly. "I trust I did not cause you a nightmare?"

She knew he was only jesting but her face darkened. He noticed and frowned in concern, leaning closer to her. "My lady?" He inquired quietly.

"You did not." She answered truthfully. He had not caused her nightmare last night. It was the same one it always was.

"But you had a troubled sleep?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He swore under his breath.

"Do you have nightmares often?"

She was about to make a cutting reply that it was absolutely none of his business whatsoever when a sudden shout in Rohirric drew Eomer's attention. One of his captains was calling him. With a last glance at Lothiriel, Eomer rode away quickly. Lothiriel sighed with relief. She should never have let him know about her nightmares. Only her family knew and she wanted to keep it that way. She could not bear the shame of anyone else knowing how weak she was.

Suddenly feeling the need to be alone she rode away from her family and towards the back of the procession. No one would look for her there.

Eomer glared down at his young captain Eorwuld. "You called me here because a horse has thrown a shoe?" He demanded; his steely gaze causing the younger man to stay silent. "Is it so beyond you that you felt the need to call me to deal with a thrown shoe?" He was calm but the power resonated through each syllable. All the men present were reminded that this man was the king. Eorwuld began to splutter a reply but the king had lost patience. He mounted Firefoot once more. "The next time you think you cannot deal with something, fetch Eothain or a Marshal before you send for me," He glanced around quickly. "Where is Eothain anyway?"

No one seemed to know. Eomer sighed hopelessly before looking up into the sky. The sun was high. They might as well stop for a meal; he thought and sent a man to inform Aragorn. He intended to find his Captain.

As Eomer expected Eothain was leaning against a tree, a mug of ale in his hand, telling a joke to two other man who were both almost incapacitated with laughter. "Eothain!" He barked as he neared them. The laughter halted immediately and Eothain clumsily threw the ale away.

"My lord king?" He wasn't drunk at least, thought Eomer gratefully.

"Would you mind explaining why you are here instead of with the other men? They came to me because a horse had thrown a shoe. It seemed their Captain had deserted them." Eomer was using his reasonable voice. Eothain knew he was in trouble.

"I am sorry, my lord king, I will attend to it immediately." He nodded his head and started to walk away, followed by his two friends. Eomer held him back for a moment and murmured, "I expected better of you Eothain."

Eothain hung his head and Eomer knew he was sorry. But then the Captain's blue eyes brightened and his mouth hung open. Eomer spun around to see what had caught his Captain's attention.

Silarien was wandering unsurely towards them, her face cast down. Her long black hair hung loose about her shoulders and her wide grey eyes looked more innocent than ever. Eothain practically had his tongue hanging out. "Who is that beautiful creature?" He breathed. Eomer nudged him.

"She's a lady, Eothain. Treat her as one."

"Lady Silarien!" He called. She glanced up and blushed. He ignored it and came to greet her, followed eagerly by Eothain. "Can I help you?"

She glanced at Eothain and blushed even more. Eomer frowned at Eothain who wasn't even attempting to hide his blatant admiration of the woman. "Lady Silarien, this is my Captain Eothain," Eomer reluctantly introduced them. "Eothain, this is Lady Silarien, Prince Imrahil's ward."

"My lady, I am honoured." Eothain grasped her hand and kissed it lightly. Silarien blushed but seemed just as captivated by Eothain as he was by her.

"The honour is mine." She replied slightly breathlessly. Eomer rolled his eyes. He coughed loudly and the lovers reluctantly tore their gaze from each other.

"Lady Silarien, can I help you?" He asked pointedly. Silarien immediately lost her smile. She gazed up at him worriedly.

"My lord king, about an hour ago Lothiriel told me she was going for a walk. I offered to go with her but she said no. I waited and waited but she has not yet returned," Silarien swallowed and tears came into her eyes. "I heard Prince Imrahil and King Elessar talking about Orc tracks," She broke down and began to sob. Eomer felt his blood run cold. He had been wasting time taking Eothain to task for something stupid and Aragorn had found Orc tracks. Orcs that would be defeated, desperate and very, very hungry. Silarien was now weeping into Eothain's arms but Eomer took her hands and shook her. "Silarien, where did she go?" Silarien just cried. "Silarien! Tell me where Lothiriel went!"

Eothain made a noise of protest but Eomer carried on shaking the girl. "Into the woods," Silarien choked. "She went into the woods."

Eomer had never run so fast in his life, or so it seemed as he raced across the field to where Aragorn, Imrahil and the men were deep in discussion. Aragorn looked up in relief when he saw Eomer coming. "Eomer!" He called. "We were just going to look for you. There have been several recent Orc tracks around the area, they might still be here and –,"

Eomer didn't wait for Aragorn to finish. He turned to Imrahil desperately. "Lothiriel has gone into the woods." He panted. Imrahil went white in one second. His hand went to his sword.

"We must go now!" Imrahil cried and Eomer began to sprint to the copse of trees that Silarien had pointed out. He prayed and prayed and prayed the Orcs were a million miles away or that Lothiriel by some twist of fate had not gone into the woods at all. He plunged into the trees, followed by Imrahil.

"Eomer, you go right, I'll go left!" Imrahil shouted and disappeared. Eomer heard the noise of more men running to approach the woods, probably Lothiriel's brothers and Aragorn's men. He did not waste any time but tore through the woodland at a breakneck speed, shouting Lothiriel's name. There was no reply.

He carried on; not allowing himself to think what would happen if he was too late. He would search in here for a million years, he knew, if only he would find her safely. Please, please, he begged the Valar; please let her be all right!

Lothiriel had tired of riding and tired of thinking and tired of everything! She thought a walk might refresh her. The procession was beginning to slow down and she guessed they would be stopping for a rest soon. Gratefully she slid off Durion and handed him to a nearby groom. There was some sort of woodland close by; she thought she would walk a while there.

The woods were deliciously cool and shadowed from the heat of the afternoon sun. She took in a huge breath. Eowyn had told her that Rohan summers were much cooler than in Gondor, thank goodness. Lothiriel adored summer; running around barefoot on the scorching sand and plunging into the cool seawater but the sun was always so burning hot! Her linen riding dress itched and she wished she could wear cool, loose trousers like the women of Harad did. She could just imagine her father's face if she turned up wearing that! Perhaps she would one day, just to shock him.

Lothiriel walked into a small clearing. Large and small rocks littered it and there was a carpet of soft, summer grass. The trees were young and green. The air was cool and open. But that was not what caught her attention. Standing in the middle of the perfect clearing were two creatures.

Grotesque, sickening, mangled.

Orcs.

**Thanks for reading! I know, I know using the orcs is very unimaginative and typical but hopefully it won't just be Eomer rushing in and saving Lothiriel as usual... ;)**

**Please review the chapter, as always I love to know what you think so far!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here we are...**

Orcs!

Swallowing Lothiriel took a step backwards but they had already noticed her. Their twisted faces leered at her and they stepped forward at the same time; gurgling and grunting. Lothiriel was paralysed with fear, helpless as they lunged towards her.

"What a treat!" One rasped reaching out to touch her. Suddenly Lothiriel could move again. She leapt back in disgust.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She warned. She cast her eyes around searching desperately for any sort of weapon. Her feet brushed against a log and she glimpsed it in the corner of her eye. It was thick and looked heavy but it was short so she would be able to grab it and hit one of the Orcs on the head. To her relief neither had swords but perhaps that just meant a slower death...

"A brave one," Hissed the other rubbing his hands together. "This one will be fun to break." He leaned closer to her sniffing her face appreciatively. She winced as the rancid odour of rotting flesh and congealed blood emanated from him.

The other growled. "How shall we kill her?" He croaked fiercely. Lothiriel nudged the log with her foot, making sure it was exactly where she thought it was.

"Kill her?" The other said in horror. "Ragnach, I want to take her before we kill her!" He moaned and cupped Lothiriel's cheek with his rough, rumpled hand. She tried desperately not to think of what exactly the filth was talking about. "Such a quiet, meek thing...I want to ruin her in every way I can before I rip her flesh off her bone!"

Ragnach grunted in agreement but seemed less willing. Lothiriel was seized with a sudden idea. "You are both going to have me?" She asked. To her relief she did not sound weak.

"Hmmm yes my sweet," Smirked the one who seemed to be the leader. He leaned in even closer and breathed over her. Lothiriel was almost sick. "We will have you until you no longer recognise your own body."

"But who will have me first?" She asked, trying not to let her revulsion show. She prayed the Orcs would fall for the trap. Her father had once told her that Orcs were mindless, stupid creatures that cared only about feeding and killing. The Orcs frowned in confusion. "You both want me untouched." They nodded slowly. "But I can only lose my purity once. One of you will have me when I have already been touched. Who is the more important and will have me first?" She finished.

They stared at her and then at each other. Ragnach spoke. "I am the stronger!" He bellowed. "I will take her whilst she is still a maid!" He reached for Lothiriel but then the other dragged him back and threw him on to the ground.

"Who is the stronger now Ragnach?" He taunted. He spat at the other Orc who tried to scrabble to his feet but was prevented by a hefty kick.

"Shargor, let me up!" Ragnach yelled but he was powerless as he was pummelled to the ground at his every attempt to stand. Eventually he lay still. Shargor glared over him and let out a moan of pain when Ragnach leapt for his feet and tackled him to the ground.

They wrestled now, completely engrossed in killing each other. Lothiriel hurriedly picked up the log and searched for another. She could not yet run for she was sure they would see and catch her easily. But she could fight. Or attempt to fight. She may be a woman but she would not let them take her easily or beg for death. She stepped silently into the shade of the tree and spotted another log. Carefully she bent to take it and positioned both of her weapons in places that she could quickly throw from.

The Orcs were still fighting fiercely spitting curses at each other. Ragnach had his arm pinned over Shargor's neck but the latter was kicking up at the former's unprotected stomach. They were biting each other and snarling and tearing with their fingers. She thanked the Valar they did not seem to have any weapons. She knew full well if they did, the fight would already be over and she would soon be dead.

They rolled to the side a little and she was almost out of view from them. She decided in that split second that she should run. She grasped her logs carefully, took two furtive steps backwards, turned around and ran for her life. She had not gone two strides when she heard angry exclamations and knew with a pound of terror against her chest that they had noticed. Fear bled through her but mixed with the fervent tang of adrenaline. She had no choice now but to run and run and run.

Lothiriel's feet pounded through the woods, stumbling over roots and rocks but her momentum kept her going. She was almost flying and yet she could hear the thud of Orc boots against the dry earth getting closer and closer. They were gaining on her. Desperately she tried to run faster but her adrenaline was spent and sweat was beginning to pool on her back and neck. Her legs ached, her eyes burnt and the logs were getting heavier and heavier.

At last she tripped and went sprawling to the ground. The Orcs, with a bellow of triumph closed in around her. She would not scream. She would not cry. She would not beg. She stood, facing them with defiance. The logs had fallen to the floor. She would not need them now. The Orcs advanced licking their lips, their red eyes wide and hungry, their hands reaching.

Suddenly she heard a voice calling her name. Damn him! It was _him_, of course it was him! Right, that was it, she thought, damn it, I'm not dying today in front of him. With a growl of fury she picked up the first log and hurled it at the first Orc. To her shock it hit him square in the face and with a grunt of surprise he fell to the ground. I've knocked out an Orc, she thought in elation. Wait until I tell Amrothos!

But Shargor was still very conscious and ignoring his unconscious friend he leapt at Lothiriel with a yell and took her down, his weight knocking the breath out of her. His hands found her throat and his skin made hers tingle in horror but she stretched out a hand searching urgently for some sort of rock or wood that she could hit the Orc with. Stars burst into her eyes, his hands were hard on her neck and her arms grew weak but she stretched her hand further. Yes! Lothiriel's hand closed on a suitable rock and she was just about to hurl it forward when Shargor's heavy body pressing her into the ground disappeared with a gurgle. Blood dripped on to her and she felt her eyes close in relief when she heard Eomer call her name frantically.

She wanted to reply but her breath was getting shorter. He knelt beside her and touched her neck tenderly. It hurt and she twisted away from his touch. He felt her forehead and she winced. "Lothiriel?" He called gently. She groaned. Why would he not leave her alone? "So you're alive then?" He asked with a hint of humour.

She opened her eyes with difficulty. His face swam above her and with another groan she shut her eyes and curled up into a ball. She just wanted to sleep now. "Leave me alone." She moaned.

He chuckled and scooped her easily into his arms. She protested loudly and tried to scramble out but he held her firmly. "Eomer, put me down now!" She commanded as they walked through the woods.

"Sorry my lady, but this is the quickest way of getting you out of there I'm afraid." He replied with a laugh.

"Why did you even come anyway?" She demanded. "I could have killed him myself."

"Yes you were doing a fine job," He told her seriously with only a hint of sarcasm. "Tell me Lothiriel, since when was getting strangled part of the plan?"

"Excuse me, I knocked the other one out...by myself!"

"Yes, I know...I found him," Eomer gazed down at her with admiration. "How did you manage that anyway? Someone your size shouldn't be able to knock out a fly."

She bristled with anger. "I'm over the average height for women! And women are tall in Gondor," She sniffed. "And not that you need to know but I threw a log at him. Straight in the face."

"Nice work anyway," Lothiriel shielded her face from the sudden sunlight as they walked out of the woods. She was immediately surrounded by everyone.

"Lothiriel?" Her father was there, clucking anxiously like a mother hen. "Lothiriel are you hurt?"

"By the Valar Lothiriel, we can't take you anywhere can we?" Amrothos was there, wittily helpful as ever.

"King Eomer, I really think you should put my sister down; if King Elessar sees –," Poor, prudent Elphir was there, more concerned about propriety than his sister, thought Lothiriel tiredly. She didn't really want Eomer to put her down anymore. If he put her down, she'd have to stand and if she stood, she wouldn't be able to sleep.

"Leave me alone, all of you..." She mumbled sleepily. Eomer's chest shook with suppressed laughter.

"Princess Lothiriel?" King Elessar's gentle, deep voice broke through. Lothiriel murmured a reply. "Come, Eomer lead her to our carriage."

Lothiriel was jolted out of sleep as her bed began moving. She realised with a shock that King Eomer was carrying her through the crowds of bemused Gondorians, curious Rohirrim, detached Elves and others. Hiding her face in shame when the carriage door opened she almost jumped in.

"My lady," King Elessar addressed her after climbing in. He sat opposite her. Eomer waited with her father in the doorway. Lothiriel struggled to sit up straight, her head pounding mercilessly. "Did the Orcs hurt you?"

Lothiriel glanced down at her dress. Ripped, stained with mud and a black liquid she guessed to be Orc blood it had certainly seen better days. Her neck felt tender and she thought it would be bruised in a few hours, her back ached from where she had been flung on to the ground, she couldn't feel her fingers, her legs felt as if she had run a thousand miles without stopping and her brain was dancing in her skull. "I'm fine." She replied shortly. "My lord." She added quickly.

King Elessar observed her. He felt her fingers, examined her neck and asked her how her head felt. "My lord," She insisted. "Please, I am fine." There was absolutely no way she would admit to feeling less than 'fine' in the presence of a certain king. And she was not thinking of Elessar. She did not deign to look at Eomer but guessed he was smirking. It was all he seemed to do.

"Lothiriel," Her father interjected worriedly. His face was lined and grey. "Did the filth...touch you?" His voice trembled.

Lothiriel frowned. "Of course they did," She answered calmly. The three men turned white. Imrahil gripped the side of the carriage. His daughter, unaware that she had nearly given her father a heart attack, pointed at her bruised neck. "How else would I have got these marks?"

"No, daughter," Imrahil re-phrased his question. "I meant...did the filth...violate you?" All three men held their breath.

"No," Lothiriel shuddered. "But they wanted to. Well, one of them did," Seeing the mixture of relief and disgust on her father's face she searched for something else to say. "They wanted to rip my flesh off." She added and cursed her careless tongue when her father paled even further. Imrahil slipped into the carriage and grabbed his daughter. He embraced her tightly and kissed the top of her head soundly before finally letting her go.

"You must never run off like that again, do you hear me?" His voice sounded dangerously teary.

"Father, I'm not a child!" Lothiriel reminded. "And I didn't run off."

"Lothiriel, I mean it!"

"All right, I promise."

Imrahil kissed his daughter again before exiting the carriage to let her sleep the 'excitement off'. King Elessar also left, assuring Lothiriel she could stay in his carriage for as long as she wished if she did not mind the jolty movements. She would have much rather got back on Durion but not wishing to seem ungrateful, thanked her king graciously.

To her displeasure Eomer stayed, standing at the side of the carriage watching her. She endeavoured to ignore him but after a while she could not bear the silence. "All right, what do you want?" She asked, annoyed.

He grinned. "You didn't thank me for saving your life."

She was not in the mood. "As I told you before my lord, I could have easily done it myself," She paused. Maybe he would not leave unless she said thank you? An odious thought. "Thank you though." She added quietly. His grin widened.

"You don't sound very grateful," He mused. "Perhaps if you showed me your thanks?" His eyes twinkled.

She gritted her teeth. "My lord you seem to be under the impression that I am impressed by some warrior waving his sword around. I assure you, I am not." She had meant to be cutting but he merely laughed. He took a single step backwards and began to close the carriage door.

However before it had completely shut he murmured through the gap, "I think you were impressed. Just a little." With a final laugh he shut the door and strode away leaving her to seethe in anger.

She could still taste his laughter in the air.

**That's chapter 7 done! Please do leave a comment, thanks! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, it's been ages, I do aplogise!**

It was late afternoon on the day that they finally came within sight of Meduseld. The golden sun was starting to lower down the sky casting a yellow glow across the plains and hitting the Golden Hall. It made the roof look like it was on fire. Lothiriel stopped for a moment to watch. She found herself unable to breathe at the magnificent, beautiful, indescribable view.

She had to ride on eventually and caught up with Amrothos. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" He smiled.

"I suppose so," She shrugged carelessly. "If you like all that thatch and wood."

He grinned affectionately but then began to smooth his hair. "Must dash, dearest sister," He began to trot off. "Lady Vanessiel looks a little lonely." Lothiriel watched him approach a beautiful lady and offer a compliment. Vanessiel laughed and wrapped an arm around her brother's. Lothiriel frowned. Vanessiel had a bad reputation. Well, it was Amrothos' look out.

"Just think Lothiriel," Silarien's dreamy voice came out of nowhere. She trotted forward on her white mare to ride next to Lothiriel. "When you marry King Eomer, all of this will be yours."

Lothiriel cleared her throat pointedly. "I thought we had agreed that wasn't going to happen?"

"I said I would help you if you thought of any ideas. You haven't yet."

"Actually I have. A rather good one." Lothiriel beamed in triumph.

"Does it involve suicide?"

"No."

"Mass murder?"

"No."

"Mating with a Mumakil to produce the most mighty offspring the world has ever seen?"

"Silarien!"

"You never know."

"I'm not sure I'd ever be that desperate."

"Anyway," Silarien patted Lothiriel's thigh. "Do tell of this wonderful plan."

"It's a surprise."

Silarien frowned in annoyance. "You said you wanted my help. How can I help if I don't know the plan?"

"You don't need to know," She moved Durion closer to Nostariel who snorted and attempted to move. Silarien held her steady and leaned her head in. "Tonight there will be a banquet of sorts in the hall," Silarien nodded slowly. "Everyone will be there but you need to make sure that my father, King Eomer and King Elessar are there in particular."

"Can't you just tell me?"

"I could but this is more fun." grinned Lothiriel. At that moment Eowyn appeared next to them, face light and open at the sight of Edoras.

"What's more fun?" She asked brightly.

Silarien and Lothiriel exchanged glances. "Nothing," answered Lothiriel lamely. "Your hair looks very beautiful." She remarked. It was true. Eowyn always wore it loose and in the late sun it glowed the colour of burnished gold.

Eowyn smiled. "Thank you," She eyed Lothiriel's hair enviously. "I have to admit, I've always liked the idea of having dark hair."

"Everyone in Gondor has black hair," remarked Silarien winding a strand of her own around her finger. "It's nice to see a bright colour."

"Talking about hair?" Faramir rode next to Eowyn. "Can't say I'm surprised." He gave Eowyn a tender smile.

"Before you two get so wrapped up in each other that you forget there even exists a world beyond you, may I just ask how long do you think it'll be until we reach Edoras?" Lothiriel inquired.

Faramir glanced behind Eowyn and chuckled. Eowyn hid a grin but replied, "A little less than an hour I would have thought."

Lothiriel cantered forward a little, followed by Silarien. Soon they were behind a group of delicate Gondorian ladies. To Lothiriel's surprise they were discussing her 'betrothed'. In positive terms. She remembered with a short laugh then how she had thought him quite attractive right before she was ordered to marry him. Poor women.

"He's so handsome!" Gushed one pathetic creature Lothiriel recognised as Lady Alassiel. One winter she had fallen madly in love with Amrothos and followed him everywhere declaring her undying devotion. Lothiriel hid a smirk. Did Alassiel really think she stood a chance with Eomer? Admittedly she was slender and beautiful with pixie features and a boyish figure but Lothiriel instinctively knew the King of Rohan would not be impressed with her bland, feeble character. Not that she cared anyway. It would be better if he took a liking to someone else. Yes, it would be much better.

"And he's so strong and a wonderful dancer!" Exclaimed another. Lady Nimwen. She was a vixen. Striking with unusual brown eyes, finely arched eyebrows, a thin mouth and straight, long nose she was well known for her flirty nature and sheer ambition. Born and bred in the house of a minor lord in Anfalas she was determined to marry above her station. Lothiriel hid a smile. If Nimwen wanted Eomer he would be hard pressed to free himself from her claws.

Silarien kept glancing at her. Lothiriel knew what she was thinking. But hearing the meaningless gossip merely made her laugh. Did anyone really think they had the slightest hint of a chance? Did they think King Eomer could not judge characters as easily as King Elessar? When Elessar had first come to the City, Amrothos had told her, all the ladies were falling over themselves to impress him. All had failed. Now it was the same except Eomer did not have a beautiful, elegant, magnificent Elven lady from the North. Lothiriel giggled. He had a scruffy, thin princess with a snub nose who did not even want to marry him! Poor Eomer, she thought humorously. Never mind.

"What are you laughing at?" Silarien asked curiously.

Lothiriel shook her head. "Nothing."

"You never tell me anything anymore!" Silarien sounded affronted. The ladies had heard them and all shifted in their ridiculous side saddles to incline their heads to the princess. Lothiriel returned the greeting coolly, thinking that would be the end of it. However silly Lady Alassiel dropped out of line to ride beside her. "What do you think of King Eomer, my lady?" She asked eagerly.

Gazing down at the girl's keen face Lothiriel felt a pang of pity. She raised her gaze to the front of the procession. Eowyn had joined her brother and the two were riding side by side. It did not seem like they were talking but Lothiriel sensed they were content with each other's company. She studied Eomer carefully. He was broad and tall, sitting straight and proud in the saddle. He was magnificent, that was true. Handsome, she admitted. Amusing...sometimes, she conceded. In the end she answered, "He is a good king." It was the truth at least.

Alassiel's face dropped as if she had expected more. But Lothiriel was not in the habit of discussing people behind their backs. Well, not with Alassiel anyway. She'd done it before with Silarien but that was different. With dear Silarien you got the impression she forgot anything you said to her as soon as you said it. It was one of the reasons Lothiriel trusted her cousin so implicitly.

They were fast approaching Edoras and people, Rohirrim had begun to line the streets, women were weeping, children staring blankly, no expression in their young faces, men knelt in the ground, kissing the ground as the funeral wain carrying Théoden's body passed them. Lothiriel was given a sober reminder of why exactly she had come to Rohan. Theoden must have been beloved of his people indeed, she mused silently, if his return in death inspired such sorrow and love.

She felt guilty. She had been thinking herself so unfortunate to be stuck in an arranged betrothal when these people had suffered so much and had not uttered one word of complaint. Yes...she felt immensely guilty. She looked ahead. A young child, a boy no older than six had passed Eomer a single flower, a sadly wilted violet. Eomer took it from the boy's hand as if it were the most precious jewel in the world. The boy stepped back to his mother, sadness still enfolding him but now Lothiriel saw his head tilt with pride.

They entered the city in silence. The only noise was the solemn trot of hooves against the dirt. The wail of weeping women. The dry leaves rustling in the wind. Lothiriel dismounted with all the others and led her own horse the rest of the way. She saw to her disgust that some of the ladies were trying to foist their horses off on stable boys that already had one or two mounts to handle. Would it kill them to have to lead their own horse up a hill really?

The procession reached the steps of Meduseld. It was even more beautiful closer up. Stable-boys hurried around taking horses from guests. Lothiriel noticed the Elves had stayed outside the city gates and had begun to put up tents. They obviously preferred being closer to nature although Lothiriel did not think there was a more natural city than Edoras in the whole of Middle Earth.

She followed her brothers up the steps with everyone else. They gathered in the hall while Eowyn went around assigning rooms. Only the main guests would be staying in Edoras. The others would be setting up tents in the area outside Edoras or staying in guesthouses within the city. Eowyn bustled around as quickly as she could with a grubby piece of parchment in her hand. Lothiriel took the chance to look around the Golden Hall. It was enchanting. Wooden beams painted gold, suns and white horses on a green field were everywhere. It was impressive yet comfortable at the same time with cosy fires burning and old wooden benches set up. She glanced at the throne and smiled wryly.

"Prince Imrahil," Eowyn reached them, red-faced and flustered. She searched the parchment for their names. "Ah, you're in Theodred's old rooms with Erchirion," She glanced up nervously. "I hope that's all right."

"My dear girl, that is wonderful." Imrahil assured her and he and Erchirion were given a servant to show them.

"Prince Elphir and Amrothos," She paused and asked Elphir, "Did your wife accompany you?"

Elphir shook his head. "My wife decided to remain in Dol Amroth with the baby."

Eowyn nodded gratefully. "In that case the two of you will be in the guest room opposite your father's room. Alyswyn!" She addressed a servant. "Take the princes to the room opposite Theodred's old rooms please."

The servant nodded but Elphir hesitated. "My lady, we do not mind sharing with our father and Erchirion if that would be easier for you."

Eowyn stared at him for a long moment. Lothiriel got the impression the eldest Prince had just gone up in the White Lady's estimations. "Yes," She admitted wearily. "That would be easier."

Elphir and Amrothos nodded and left with the servant and their luggage. Eowyn turned with a tired smile to Faramir, Lothiriel and Silarien who were left of the family. Faramir kissed her forehead gently. Eowyn smiled again.

"Faramir, you are with Eomer in his room," She instructed. "Lothiriel and Silarien...you two are with me in my room." She finished with a deep breath. "I'll show you two." She bid Faramir farewell and helped bring the two girls' luggage to her room. She stopped for a second before pushing open the door. "It feels like I have not been in here forever." She murmured almost to herself. Then she gently pushed the thick, wooden door open with an ominous creak.

The room smelt of burnt wood, leather and the pleasant womanly scent that was Eowyn. There was one bed in the middle of the room; big but hardly for three people. There were rugs and skins on the wooden floor, tapestries of battle scenes and various flaxen-haired peoples on the wall and candles everywhere. The fireplace was big and full of dried wood. There were two windows; one facing north, one facing south. They were wide and dusty with wilted flowers on the wooden panes, as well as a jug of water, a couple of books and riding gloves. A bow stood proudly in one corner next to a huge wardrobe but there were no arrows. A currycomb was laid next to the brush Lothiriel assumed Eowyn used for her own hair. She stifled a smile. The room was perfect.

"Will it do?" asked Eowyn light-heartedly but Lothiriel sensed anxiety under it.

"It's perfect." She and Silarien replied at the same time, making Eowyn laugh.

"So which of you wishes to sleep in the bed?" Eowyn asked, putting the trunk she had carried next to her wardrobe.

Lothiriel and Silarien exchanged glances. "Surely you wish to sleep in your own bed Eowyn?" asked Lothiriel reasonably.

Eowyn shrugged. "You are my guests. It will not kill me to sleep on the floor for a couple of weeks."

"My lady," Silarien swallowed nervously. "We do not wish to inconvenience you."

Eowyn smiled kindly at her. "You are not, I assure you."

Lothiriel sighed. "Eowyn, just sleep in the bed."

Eowyn chuckled. "Who am I to disobey a princess?" She laughed and jumped on to the bed, bouncing up and down as she giggled. "I have not done that for a long time!" She gasped, sitting up.

After she had unpacked, Lothiriel watched the sun set from Eowyn's window as well as she could as it faced north. She decided she would get a better view from the western side of Meduseld. As most of the guests would be getting ready for the small banquet she thought she would probably be alone.

She slipped through the halls past bustling servants, too busy to pay her any attention. Meduseld was uncomplicated; Lothiriel managed to find her way to the hall again without much difficulty. Her father was discussing something grimly with King Elessar and Elphir but he didn't notice her leaving the hall. The door warden gave her a small smile and greeted her politely in the Common Speech. She was struck by his politeness and decided that she would learn Rohirric if only to be able to greet a Rohir in his own language.

The western side of Edoras looked out over the city and faced the mountains behind which the golden sun was setting slowly. Lothiriel stood for a few moments before wandering around the side looking for somewhere to sit.

She rounded a corner and stopped suddenly. King Eomer was sitting on the steps of Meduseld watching the sun set also with a tear running down his cheek and his hands folded tightly in his lap. His blue eyes were dark with grief, his long tawny hair blown loosely over his shoulders and his gaze fell across his land. She wondered if she could retreat without him noticing but then his head snapped up and his mouth fell open at the sight of her. Eomer hastily wiped his eyes and stood, straightening his shirt. They stood awkwardly facing each other unsure of what to say.

Suddenly Lothiriel could not bear the silence. "Meduseld is beautiful." She remarked and then realised that sounded like she was accepting the fact she might have to live here. Her face fell open in dismay and he laughed bitterly.

"It's all right," He replied shortly looking away at the mountains. The sun had almost gone and the first stars of dusk were twinkling in the east. "Everyone says it. Not just unwilling brides."

She squirmed feeling uncomfortable. No doubt just what he had meant her to feel. "Why were you crying?" She asked kindly at last.

His fists tightened. "I bury my uncle tomorrow. Why do you think?"

"I was not sure," She replied gently. "You seem to me like you have a lot to weep about."

He frowned defensively. "What do you mean?"

She smiled tentatively. "I heard Lady Nimwen discussing you on the journey," He was confused, she could tell. "It sounds as if she means to get what she wants. You had better be careful."

He suddenly grinned. "I suppose you put her right on all my dreadful faults?"

"Not quite," She answered seriously. "But I would not wish Lady Nimwen on my most hated enemy. So I thought to warn you."

He inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you for the warning my lady."

"It's my pleasure," She paused. "And thank you...for saving my life, with the Orc," She suddenly returned his grin. "Although I maintain I could have saved myself."

He chuckled easily. "Is this a truce Lothiriel?" He asked meaningfully.

She glanced away. "Temporarily." She looked back nervously but he was still smiling. She gave a small curtsey. "I had better dress for dinner," She paused for a second. "Will you be all right?"

He nodded. "I will now thank you," She smiled and turned to walk back to the entrance of Meduseld. However before she left he called, "Battle commences as usual tomorrow morning Lothiriel."

She did not turn around but allowed herself a small smile.

Then she walked back into the Golden Hall as the blanket of night began to descend on the pale blue dusk.

**What do you think? Sorry it took so long to get up there but I have had so much revision to do these holidays, it's untrue. Anyway, leave a comment if you wish to, I liked writing this chapter! :) **

**Thanks!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Read and enjoy...**

"A truce?" Silarien questioned in a low voice. They were sat at the King's table for the meal. Eomer was quite a distance from them but Lothiriel did not want anyone to overhear.

"Yes," She confirmed impatiently. "A temporary one."

"So I suppose I'd better stop giving him dirty looks."

"What!" Lothiriel forgot to be quiet. Elphir shot her a disapproving look.

"It's well, I don't think he noticed," Silarien munched absent-mindedly on a leg of lamb. "He just sort of, smiled at me whenever I did it. Like he knew I was trying to be intimidating."

"Are you mad?" Hissed Lothiriel.

"No...Why?"

"Giving the King of Rohan evil looks is like poking a sleeping lion!"

"Hardly."

Lothiriel almost growled. But that really would have provoked Elphir. "Silarien, he has a temper and he's twice, no, three times your size."

"Yes but I rather think killing me might make you a little predisposed to hate him, don't you?" Silarien took a sip of wine and licked her lips. "Mm, that's good wine! Somehow I didn't expect to find good wine in Rohan."

"It's Gondorian," Lothiriel pointed out. "Father brought some with him."

"Ah." Silarien downed her glass and began on her vegetables. "So what now?"

"I think there will be some music after the meal and then –,"

"No, no," interrupted Silarien impatiently. "Your plan? The one to make King Eomer hate you? Is that on or off?"

"Off...for now," Lothiriel sighed. "Silarien you should have seen his face. I've never seen a man cry before. And he buries his uncle tomorrow. I think I should leave it for a while."

Silarien nodded. "You're right," She agreed good-humouredly. "So, will you sing tonight?"

"Me?"

"Queen Arwen will and Lady Eowyn. Your father suggested to King Eomer that you do too."

"But, but," stammered Lothiriel suddenly anxious. "I haven't sung since, well since..."

Silarien patted her hand softly. "Since Aunt Iriven died," She finished gently. "I know but you do have such a lovely voice. I can hardly remember it."

"I'm not going to sing." Lothiriel insisted.

"Lothiriel, singing isn't betraying your mother," Silarien's eyes widened in compassion. "She would have wanted you to sing."

"But all the songs I sing are hers!" Lothiriel wailed quietly. "I can't sing her songs!"

"Sing one with Amrothos," suggested Silarien. She saw Lothiriel pale and clutch the edge of the table. She reached over and squeezed her hand tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I don't think your father will really make you. Just forget I said anything."

Lothiriel finished her meal in silence. Silarien cast her worried glances but did not say anything. When they had eaten the last morsel she apologised again. "Thiriel, I'm sorry!" Lothiriel smiled at the use of her childhood nickname.

"Let's just leave now," Silarien suggested already half standing. "I'm sure no one will mind; it's been a long day after all."

But as they started to rise Elphir demanded to know where they were going. "Don't you know in Rohan, it's considered extremely rude to retire before the king?"

Lothiriel snorted. "That's not true." But Silarien had already sat down.

"Sleeping lions?" She shrugged when Lothiriel stared at her questioningly. "I don't want to risk it."

Elphir looked at them as if they were both mad. "Just stay there." He hissed.

Erchirion gave them a small shrug of sympathy. "Ignore him," He mumbled. "He's in a bad mood because Amrothos is making him sleep on the floor."

"Ha!" Silarien stuck her tongue out at an unsuspecting Elphir. Lothiriel choked on her wine. Erchirion patted her on the back.

"Erchirion," Lothiriel began when she had recovered. "What's happening after the meal?"

"Music I assume. Queen Arwen and Lady Eowyn have both offered to sing," Lothiriel's throat tightened. "There might be some dancing I would have thought. Nothing too exotic though."

"Rohirric dances?" Silarien asked with interest.

Erchirion nodded. "They're quite easy, I'm told."

"Well I'm dancing the first with you then," Lothiriel insisted. Erchirion grinned. "Only because you seem to know the steps." She added seeing his amusement.

"I don't," He admitted and nodded at Eomer. "But I imagine he does." Lothiriel glanced at Eomer. They may have agreed a truce for the night but that did not mean she wanted to dance with him. Besides how did Erchirion know? She had thought nobody knew apart from her, Silarien, Eomer and her father. Well...Eowyn probably knew by now. And that meant Faramir did. And most likely King Elessar. So very likely Queen Arwen too. Lothiriel groaned.

"Are you well dear?" asked Erchirion worriedly. "You're not sulking are you?"

"Most certainly not," She snapped. "I'm just tired. Can I not retire?"

Erchirion bit his lip. "I'm not too sure dear," He replied vaguely. "You'd better ask Father." But as Imrahil was all the way on the other side of the table Lothiriel had no intention of doing so.

She suddenly noticed Silarien staring dreamily at a young man on another table. He looked about thirty with golden hair, intense blue eyes and a sweet smile. What was more was that he was returning Silarien's hopeless gazes. Oh please no, Lothiriel begged the Valar, let Silarien not have fallen for some Rohirric Rider.

"Silarien what are you doing?" Lothiriel nudged Silarien's thigh with her own under the table. Silarien jumped, blushed and avoided Lothiriel's gaze. "Well?"

"His name's Eothain," confided Silarien. She blushed even more. "He's been...talking to me."

"Oh really?" Lothiriel felt betrayed. "So all this time when I've been pouring out my heart with everything that has happened with me and Eomer, you didn't say a word about this 'Eothain?' That makes me feel so trusted."

"It's because you've been so...involved with this entire betrothal thing that I haven't said anything," insisted Silarien pleadingly. "Lothiriel! Don't ignore me! I'm sorry, all right? I should have told you but really nothing has happened. Yes, we talked a little on the journey but that was it! Lothiriel!"

"I can't believe you didn't say anything."

"I know I should have but I didn't want to irritate you."

"Irritate me? How?" Lothiriel was disbelieving.

"Because I'm so happy and you are not." Lothiriel was shocked. That was how Silarien saw her? As some pathetic, pitiful creature with an unhappy life ahead of her?

There was an electric silence. "Lothiriel?" Silarien sounded close to tears but Lothiriel refused to yield. "Thiriel, please." Please what? "Lothiriel!"

"Is that why you've become so keen for me to marry Eomer all of a sudden?" Lothiriel demanded suddenly. "Because it would be so cosy and simple for us all to live in Rohan together?" Silarien blushed and lowered her eyes to the table. Lothiriel nodded slowly in understanding. "It is isn't it? Valar, I've been stupid."

"I don't know why you're making this so difficult," Silarien whispered. "It's not my fault."

"No, it never is, is it?" Lothiriel hissed unkindly. She couldn't even understand herself why she was so angry with Silarien. Was she jealous? No, 'Eothain' was very handsome and worthy of her beautiful cousin but she wasn't attracted to him herself. What was it? She sighed. She knew. It was the fact that Silarien had the simple power of choice. The choice of who she could fall in love with. Who she could marry. Lothiriel no longer had that power. That was why she was angry. And Silarien was right. It wasn't her fault.

The meal drew to a close and the Rohirrim drew out their harps and fiddles. Music; rich and powerful flowed through the hall. It was glorious. Lothiriel's anxiety that she would be expected to sing blew away as she listened to the music. It was hopeful, yet full of despair, triumphant, yet full of loss and she wondered what the story was.

After a while the Rohirric music filtered out and Lothiriel realised with a jolt the Queen was going to sing. She sat up in her seat, determined to listen. She had heard the Elves sing on the journey but they had sung all as one with no voice distinguishable from the rest. She had never heard an Elf sing alone. Queen Arwen begun her song and Lothiriel forgot everything else. She had never learnt to speak Sindarin and wished fervently in that moment that she had. The words dancing from the Queen's mouth were so...pure and untouched Lothiriel wanted to remember them forever. If the Rohirrim sang of victory in battle, the Elves sang of sorrow, of leaving the shores of Middle Earth, of returning home to the West at the end of a very long day.

There was silence when the Queen finished. One by one the guests began to clap in wonder, stunned into amazement. Next it was Eowyn's turn. Lothiriel felt her heart tremble. She prayed she would not have to sing...not here. Eowyn's song was in the Common Speech; a heart-warming tune that spoke of summer.

When Eowyn sang her final word she beamed at the applause she received. She resumed her seat and Imrahil glanced over at his daughter. "Lothiriel, would you sing for me?" He asked clearly across the hall. Everybody heard.

Lothiriel shook her head. "No I will not." She answered quietly. And her father knew exactly why not.

Imrahil's eyes widened slightly. "Lothiriel," He began warningly but Silarien cut in.

"My lord, shall I sing?" By now everybody was watching. Lothiriel did not look at her father.

"Thank you Silarien but we always hear you sing," Imrahil paused. "I have not heard my daughter's voice for many a long year."

Silence. "Father please," Lothiriel begged. "Do not make me."

"Come daughter," He walked to her and placed a hand on her hair. "It will do you good."

"But I cannot remember any songs!" She insisted in a low voice.

Amrothos came to them, his face dark. "Father, do you really think this is a good idea?" He murmured.

"I do," Imrahil replied. He took Lothiriel's hand and helped her stand. "Amrothos will sing with you for the first song."

Amrothos' mouth dropped open but somehow his father had managed to sweep both him and Lothiriel to the centre. There was a piano and a harp. Reluctantly Amrothos took a seat at the piano leaving Lothiriel to the harp. She glared at her father. "I will make you cry." She vowed fiercely. Imrahil did not speak but smiled sadly before moving back to his seat beside King Elessar.

Eomer had watched the exchange curiously, wondering why Lothiriel was so unwilling to sing. Perhaps she had a terrible voice? He doubted that; Imrahil was not the kind of man to purposely humiliate his children. Although they both looked rather humiliated at that moment.

Amrothos began to bang on the keys whilst Lothiriel hesitantly started to pluck on the strings of the harp. Amrothos started to sing; his voice surprisingly good and smooth despite his obvious irritation at being forced to sing. Eomer watched Lothiriel. Her fingers gathered confidence and the song grew. He realised he was impatient to hear her voice.

She started the second verse and he felt the breath leave him. Her voice was...perfect. Hesitant, raw and tender; she stole the song. Eomer stole a glance at Imrahil. Lothiriel had kept her promise; her father's eyes were wet with tears.

After the song Imrahil embraced both of his children tightly. Amrothos clapped him on the back awkwardly but Lothiriel sat stiff and unresponsive. When she could, she escaped and returned to her seat by Silarien.

"You didn't sound bad," Silarien consoled. "You sounded quite good actually."

"I don't care." She snapped. "I'm getting revenge."

"On who? Imrahil?" Silarien sounded incredulous.

"Yes, Imrahil!"

"Oh Lothiriel, just because he made you sing?" Silarien reproached her.

"When Mother died I promised I would never sing again," Lothiriel buried her face in her hands. "He made me break that promise."

Silarien remained silent for some time. "So I suppose that means the plan is most definitely back on?"

Lothiriel raised her face. Her grey eyes glittered. "Most definitely."

Silarien chuckled. "Will you tell me this time?"

Lothiriel sighed but smiled weakly. "Oh very well," She conceded. "I'll tell you tonight, when Eowyn's asleep; she can't overhear."

"So we're not doing it tonight?" Silarien asked in disappointment.

"I said to King Eomer we had a truce tonight. I can't break that," Lothiriel thought for a few seconds. "We can do it the night after tomorrow."

Silarien giggled suddenly and hid her face under the table. When she emerged she was pink from suppressed laughter.

"It's going to be fun isn't it?"

Lothiriel's lips pursed as she surveyed her father warmly talking with Eomer and King Elessar. Oh yes.

It would be fun.

**Hope that went okay! More of a filler chapter really but let me know your thoughts! All reviews are gratefully received, thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the wait!**

Eowyn had a troubled sleep that night. Lothiriel from the floor, could hear her sighing and tossing and turning all night long. She wished she could have said something but she knew in the throes of grief; words were useless. She hoped the funeral would go quickly for Eowyn's sake. At least she had the announcement of her betrothal to Faramir to look forward to.

Breakfast was subdued; conversations held in quiet murmurs if they were held at all. Lothiriel sat next to Erchirion who wordlessly handed her a glass of milk and some porridge. She tasted it carefully. It seemed rather bland but then she spotted the honey. With a liberal lacing of it, she quite liked the taste.

Just after breakfast the funeral ceremony began. The crowds made their way down to the area outside Edoras where the kings were buried. Lothiriel stared in wonder and odd sadness at the mounds that stretched a long way around Edoras. The actual funeral was solemn; the women cried and blessed Théoden's body as it was carried between them to his final resting place. Eomer spoke a few words but Lothiriel did not understand for he spoke in Rohirric. Then Eowyn sang; a song poignant and bitter. Her voice shook but she carried on with courage. Eomer and Eowyn stood very close to each other.

Then it was over. The guests and people of Edoras returned to Meduseld for the banquet to celebrate Théoden's life. It became merry instead of sombre and the bards sang of Théoden's great victories at the end of his life. Lothiriel didn't understand a word but Silarien's 'beloved Eothain' sat with them and 'kindly' explained everything.

In the midst of it all Eomer gave the formal announcement of Eowyn and Faramir's betrothal. Their eyes shone with love and happiness. Lothiriel felt envious. What would it be like, she wondered, to have that sort of utter devotion?

All her thoughts were swept from her mind however at what happened next.

Her father was joining Eomer in standing to address the crowds.

Oh please, no.

Lothiriel desperately searched for a way out. People blocked her on every side! Cursing under her breath she dropped to her knees and began to crawl under various legs and skirts to the astonishment of the guests. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she laughed to herself but sobered as she heard her father's voice.

"Lords and ladies, Elves, Men, Hobbits, and Dwarf," Imrahil beamed at Gimli who muttered something and drank more ale. "I also have an announcement to make."

Eru Iluvatar, why were there so many people! Growling and quietly cursing all the people in her way Lothiriel began to feel the cool air of the open door. Her knees throbbed and she supposed her gown was ruined.

"I am extremely pleased to announce the betrothal of my daughter Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth to my good friend Eomer, King of Rohan."

Valar.

With no time to lose she suddenly leapt up and began sprinting to the door. "Get out of my way!" She hissed as someone obstructed her. She glanced up and almost died of raw mortification. The person who had stopped her was the Lady Galadriel. The greatest of female Elves. The Lady of Light. Lothiriel thought her day had just got a million times better.

"I believe you are Lothiriel?" Lady Galadriel inquired quietly in her low, melodious voice. Lothiriel was surprised she could even hear the voice over all the thunderous applause that had just erupted.

She nodded mutely, hanging her head. Lady Galadriel considered for a moment as people started to ask where the Princess was. Then the Elf laughed gently and stepped to the side.

"Run." She advised.

Lothiriel took the advice just as she felt Eomer's eyes scorching the back of her head.

The early evening air was cool. She shivered slightly as she hurried around to the stables. Eowyn was right; summer was colder in Rohan. She slid into the stables and looked in the half light for Durion. He was neighing softly in the corner. Grateful for a friendly face she slipped into his stall and hugged his neck. "Oh Durion," She murmured into his mane. "What am I going to do?"

"Lothiriel?" Oh what now! Someone was coming to the stables. "Lothiriel?" She recognised the voice as Amrothos and sighed. He entered the stables and saw her immediately, covered in straw and horse hair, holding on to Durion.

"Oh Lothiriel," He paced forward and hugged his sister. "I didn't know. I had no idea. How could Father have announced it like that when even your brothers didn't know?" Lothiriel mumbled something into Amrothos' comforting chest. "It's all right, Elphir and Erchirion are speaking to him now; Erchirion's furious."

"Will they make him break it off?" She asked hopefully.

Amrothos sighed deeply. "I don't know if they can now it's been formally announced," He admitted eventually. "I just don't know."

Lothiriel bit back a groan of frustration. "So I'm stuck now?"

Amrothos shrugged. "Unless something extraordinary happened I'm afraid so dear."

"What would you say is something 'extraordinary'?" Lothiriel asked. Maybe her plan could still work...

"I don't know," Amrothos grinned and ruffled her hair. "You eloping with a Hobbit? Giving birth to a half Mumakil?"

Lothiriel smiled suspiciously. "Have you been talking to Silarien?"

"No, why?" He sounded guilty. With Amrothos that usually meant he was telling the truth. You had to watch out for when he sounded innocent.

"It doesn't matter."

Amrothos held her for a while but eventually Lothiriel sighed and stretched, freeing herself from her brother's arms. "Let's go back in," She suggested. She had something to do. "I want to do something."

Amrothos lead her out of the stall and together they left the stables. "What are you going to do Lothiriel?"

She smiled sweetly. "Don't you trust me?" Her eyes were wide.

He narrowed his eyes. "Not when you look like that."

She smiled again but said nothing as they walked quietly back into the hall. It seemed everyone was looking for her. Lothiriel took a deep breath. She had not meant to do this so soon but seeing her father so callously announce it like that...it had shaken her. Shaken her and angered her.

She spied out Silarien practically on Eothain's lap giggling at something he had said. Lothiriel rolled her eyes. Sometimes, she thought, she wished she could just hit Silarien over the head with a bucket. Preferably a very large one.

She kept to the shadows, hoping not to be noticed, trying to make her way to Silarien. She hoped Silarien would remember the secret code they had devised the night before. Lothiriel had not expected to be using it until tomorrow but maybe it was better doing it earlier. At least Silarien was more likely to remember it.

Lothiriel took a deep breath. When this was done she would be a social outcast. Nobody would wish to be seen with her. She would be banished from Minas Tirith, maybe even banished from Gondor. At least she could console herself with the fact that no one would want to marry her after it. Not even Eomer.

She was now just a few steps from Silarien. It was time. Lothiriel licked her lips, cleared her throat and moistened the inside of her mouth with her tongue. She then coughed loudly and harshly twice, stamped her foot in a circle six times, sang the highest note possible and made the noise of a twittering bird in the dawn. Nothing. A completely deaf Silarien still sat there, smiling stupidly into Eothain's face. Lothiriel seriously contemplated riding to the nearest mountain and jumping off. She tried again, coughing and stamping louder, reaching a higher note and made the bird considerably angrier. Nothing. Lothiriel remembered how Silarien had, last night, first suggested with a breathless laugh to make the code an imitation of Gimli. For some reason she was obsessed with the dwarf.

Lothiriel pressed her palm to her head. She did not want to have to do this. She would rather have gone for a swim in the lava pit of Mount Doom. She would rather have married an Orc. She would – there was nothing for it. Clearing her throat again she attempted to sound even the tiniest, littlest bit like a drunk dwarf. "Aye laddy," She began. Hmm...She didn't sound too bad. "Pass us the ale will you laddy?" Not bad at all. If she said so herself. But still nothing. Lothiriel almost bellowed in frustration and considered just marching over and pulling Silarien's hair out. Taking a deep, deep, deep breath she tried again. "That Silarien is a pretty lass, eh laddy? Aye, she is." It worked!

Hearing her name, Silarien's head snapped up and she immediately noticed Lothiriel standing in the corner. Lothiriel mouthed, "The plan!" Silarien quickly excused herself and went to join her friend.

"Silarien you have no idea how much I want to tear your hair out," Lothiriel growled through gritted teeth. Silarien's innocent eyes widened even more. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

Silarien blinked. "So we're doing it now are we?"

"Yes, that's why I got you over here."

Silarien nodded firmly. She grinned suddenly. "Don't worry Thiri, I'll still be your friend when all of this comes out."

Lothiriel raised an eyebrow. "Good to know," She replied sarcastically and smoothed down her dress. It was grey; the colour of mourning in Gondor but the knees were grubby and black. "How do I look?"

"Like a harlot."

"Excellent," Lothiriel tried to still her wildly racing heart. She was about to confess to something so shameful, so disgraceful she would not be surprised if her father disowned her. And the worst part was...it wasn't even true. "It's time, I think." Better to get her ultimate humiliation over with. She glimpsed Eomer's face from the corner. At least she wasn't going to be trapped in a loveless union in a few minutes. Her heart sank. Ignoring it, Lothiriel marched forward to meet her doom.

"Princess Lothiriel, congratulations!" The words came from everywhere. She inclined her head and smiled graciously. The fools.

"Father!" Her voice rang clear and true through the crowds. They were silenced. Lothiriel stood in the centre of the hall opposite her father, Eomer, King Elessar, Queen Arwen, Eowyn and Faramir and her brothers who were all the high table on the raised dais. Just in front of the throne.

"Lothiriel," Her father started, holding his hands up. "Let me explain –,"

"No Father," Lothiriel interrupted smoothly. "Let _me_ explain. I believe you have arranged for me to marry this man," She gestured at Eomer. "I am going to tell you exactly why that is not going to happen."

Imrahil spluttered but everyone in the hall regarded her seriously. "Lothiriel, what are you going to do?" Elphir asked worriedly as if she was about to throw a knife at Eomer's chest.

"I'm going to tell the truth," She replied evenly. "I'm going to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago."

Lothiriel turned to face her father steadily meeting his puzzled gaze. "Father I cannot marry King Eomer," She swallowed. "Because I am not virtuous."

You could have heard a single hair from somebody's head drop to the floor. Imrahil broke the deadly silence first with a gasp. He clutched his heart, shaking his head fervently. "It's not true!" He rasped. "You lie Lothiriel!"

Lothiriel coughed loudly. Silarien stumbled forwards clutching bedding. She curtseyed awkwardly. "I have a witness and evidence." Lothiriel announced.

Imrahil's eyes almost popped out of his head. "What?" He whispered.

Silarien's eyes were so wide they were threatening to take over her face. Lothiriel smiled encouragingly at her but she knew they were both beginning to regret this. Very. Very. Much. Still Eomer said nothing just carried on scrutinising Lothiriel with his intense blue eyes.

"It's true," Silarien gulped. She swallowed. "Lothiriel confided in me and bade me keep the sheet that holds her...her blood," Silarien broke off and Lothiriel saw to her horror that her 'witness' was in grave danger of giggling. Lothiriel rolled her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Why, oh why? Of all the days to be immature, Silarien had to choose this one.

"If you do not believe me Father, I will show you." With a smooth flourish Silarien folded out the bedding. It was a sheet with a stain of dried red blood in the centre. Lothiriel's arm tingled from where she had cut herself. It had been easy really. Too easy. She had taken Eowyn's knife, sliced through her white skin and wiped the blood on to the sheet. Imrahil was almost choking with rage and shame. His eyes were practically popping from his skull.

He drew his sword. "Who was it!" He thundered. "Who dared to violate **my** daughter and does not come to me!" No one answered. Well, Lothiriel thought dryly, no one would, seeing as the violator didn't technically exist. "Who was it?" Bellowed Imrahil.

Lothiriel stepped forward and folded up the sheet with her right arm. The left was beginning to sting a lot. She needed to bathe it in cool water again.

"Father, the man is in Minas Tirith," She explained. Imrahil spun around wildly to King Elessar.

"Minas Tirith?" He whispered. "One of your men?"

King Elessar frowned. "If it was Imrahil, I assure you I had no idea any such behaviour was taking place. You may be certain I will take whichever man it was to task."

Eomer cleared his throat. Then he began to laugh. He kept Lothiriel's bewildered gaze but he laughed. And laughed. And laughed. When the laughter died away he walked to Lothiriel leisurely and gently folded her left sleeve up. To her horror the cut was thick with blood. He showed her arm to Imrahil. "I think you will need to bathe that Lothiriel," He murmured; his mouth close to her ear. "My sweet, beautiful Lothiriel." She twisted away from him and he dropped her arm.

Imrahil sheathed his sword and strode to his daughter with a steely gaze. "So you're lying?" He grabbed her arm and hissed. "You stupid child! Don't you know how easy it is for a cut like that to become infected?"

"I didn't –,"

" – Do you think that by playing foolish tricks you will convince me you are mature enough to make your own decisions? This entire... _escapade_ has proven Lothiriel, that you have too much time on your hands and not enough sense to think for yourself!" Imrahil turned his glare to Silarien. "As for you, young lady it appears you do not have enough sense to know when something is right and when something is wrong," She hung her head. "I would have thought by now you would have become accustomed to my daughter's harebrained schemes and known to avoid them!"

"Father, please –,"

" – Enough!" Imrahil thundered. Lothiriel fell silent but anger stirred in her. Her father had announced to everyone without her consent that she was betrothed to Eomer. How dare he? He had not even allowed her to tell her brothers, he had not even asked her if she wanted to marry the king. He had just assumed. Well, she thought bitterly, this plan didn't work. Now it's time for plan B.

She cleared her throat and scanned the room swiftly. Ah...Aerion was stood to the side with Amrothos well within grasp of her. To be certain, Lothiriel took a tentative step towards him. "Father," She took a deep breath but hid a smile. This would work. This would humiliate her father and get her out of the betrothal. If Aerion was sharp enough to go along with it. "I am afraid that I really, truly, honestly cannot marry King Eomer."

Imrahil's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess," He answered slowly. "You're already secretly married to a Dwarf and you've got six children waiting for you in the caves."

"Not quite." Another small step closer to Amrothos and Aerion. It was easy really.

"Well?" Imrahil demanded. "We're all waiting to hear what intriguing idea you've come up with this time."

"I can't marry King Eomer because I'm in love with somebody else," She masterfully hid a grin. Oh, she was brilliant.

Imrahil choked loudly.

Eomer frowned slightly but his voice was light when he spoke. "Who might this be, my lady?" He inquired politely. Lothiriel frowned too. It was clear he didn't believe her. Well, he would soon.

"I am in love with," She suddenly bounded forward and yanked a stunned Aerion towards her. Giving him her most charming smile she turned to face Eomer triumphantly.

"Aerion." She replied gleefully.

Ah victory tasted sweet!

**Thanks for reading, do leave a review! (:**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11...**

"Lothiriel, I don't know what you're playing at but," Aerion broke off, his face hard and pale in the moonlight. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "What in the name of the Valar will your father think of me?"

"Don't worry, it won't be for long," Lothiriel consoled smoothly. "Just keep it up for a little while and when we get back to Dol Amroth we can just say that we decided we don't suit each other. No one will know."

They were stood outside Meduseld, hidden by the shadow of a barn. The celebrations of Eowyn and Faramir's betrothal had started soon after Lothiriel's announcement but she had had no time to enjoy them. Aerion had immediately dragged her outside and demanded to know what she was doing.

"Lothiriel, I've met a girl!" Aerion exploded suddenly. "I can hardly tell her I've been secretly in love with you for the past, Valar know how long."

Lothiriel thought hard. She had not expected this sort of complication. "Can't you, just, sort of tell her you need to decide who you like more?" She wheedled.

Aerion stared down at her as if she had asked him to slice his head off and present it to King Elessar on a silver plate. "Are you so completely mad that you think I would agree to that?"

"Aerion please, just go along with it for a few days, please!" Lothiriel gave him her best wide-eyed smile.

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Fine," Aerion opened one eye warily followed by the other. They then narrowed. "But I'm telling Derwyn the truth. I won't have her thinking I'm the sort of man that tells a string of girls he loves them."

Lothiriel opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. She couldn't really expect good, dependable Aerion to lie for her to his sweetheart. It would break the poor girl's heart. Aerion watched her carefully and nodded, pleased when she accepted the terms. Taking a breath, he offered his arm to her. "We'd better go back in, dear heart." His eyes twinkled.

Lothiriel rolled her eyes and nudged him but wrapped her arm around his. The stars glittered in the indigo sky; the colour of the dark blue ink that she had often spilt down her dress as a child during lessons. The happy music drifted out from Meduseld and she couldn't help an idle thought float across her mind. _Right place. Wrong man. _

Chiding herself for such a foolish thought Lothiriel allowed Aerion to lead her up the steps. They paused, looking at each other for a long moment. Lothiriel's lips twitched. She hadn't thought she'd ever have to profess undying love for poor Aerion. They shared a conspiratorial grin before the doors swung open and the two 'lovers' entered.

"Do you think it's true?" Eowyn asked in a low voice. She'd taken a break from dancing and noticed her brother in the corner brooding.

"No." Eomer shrugged "But it doesn't matter. I doubt Imrahil would make his daughter marry a man if he believed she was in love with another."

Eowyn licked her lips thoughtfully and tapped her long fingers on the wooden table. "I don't think it's true," She admitted. "Faramir doesn't either. He says that boy; Aerion was like another brother to Lothiriel. Why would she lie though? And the other lie earlier, about not being a maiden?"

Eomer concealed a smile. Eowyn was genuinely surprised. She thought any lady should find her dear brother absolutely irresistible. It was unthinkable to her that any woman should not wish to marry her brother. "Eowyn, don't say anything will you?"

She glared at him. "If I do, it's for your own good."

"Eowyn!"

"Eomer why do you insist on torturing yourself? Lothiriel is never going to want to marry you so why do you carry this whole charade on? Spare yourself the pain and just forget it."

Anger and pain rushed through Eomer burning him. What if Eowyn was right? What if he would never win Lothiriel over? A strange emotion was raw inside him. He realised it was agony. The agony of unrequited love, he thought bitterly. How often he had listened to tales from men in his eored of pretty girls who allowed a kiss but the next night were dancing with another man, their admirers all forgotten? How often had he congratulated himself that had never loved a woman with everything he had so that if she did not want it, he lost nothing? Had he ever really loved before? Did he love Lothiriel?

"Eomer?" Eowyn's impatient voice drew him out of his musings. "I said Lothiriel and the boy are coming back in."

Eomer looked up. Lothiriel, graceful as ever was gliding into the hall to greet her father, the boy Aerion accompanying her. He seemed uncomfortable. Good.

Imrahil did not seem overly pleased with the situation but declined from making anything other than a polite response. Eomer observed from the corner. Imrahil dismissed the two and Lothiriel led her 'lover' over to Silarien who seemed vaguely amused. Eomer scowled. It seemed he needed a word with Silarien. He knew that she knew far more than she let on.

Music began; hearty and fun. Aerion reluctantly led Lothiriel to the floor. His glance passed around the room, settling woefully on a pretty blonde girl who was watching him with a mix of contempt and confusion. He quickly looked away but held his partner as far from his body as he could. Lothiriel, blissfully unaware beamed up at Aerion. "I much prefer Rohirric dances," She commented merrily as Aerion twirled her around. "They're so much freer and...lighter somehow."

"Very true."

Lothiriel bit her lip. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Aerion, you sound as if I'd forced you out here on pain of death."

"Well, to be perfectly frank Lothiriel, you have."

Lothiriel's grey eyes widened momentarily. She looked at the floor, a light blush playing on her cheeks. "It's not for long," She murmured to the floor. "We have to keep it up until we get back to Dol Amroth. Then nobody will care."

"I will care!" Aerion hissed angrily. Dancing couples glanced at them curiously. Aerion lowered his voice with effort. "I care if Derwyn thinks I am a complete cad, telling her that I love her and now going after you. I care if your father, my Prince, thinks I'm a scoundrel chasing after a Princess all these years. And, my lady," There was a hardness on the words 'my lady'. Lothiriel flinched. "I care very much that we are dancing here, offending a man who buried his uncle today!"

Lothiriel blushed even further at these severe words although in her heart of hearts she knew them to be true. She had embarrassed her father, offended Eowyn and insulted Eomer. On the day of their uncle's burial and Eowyn's betrothal announcement. Unwillingly she looked around the hall for Eomer. To her shock he was dancing with Silarien. And smiling. Silarien seemed vaguely uncomfortable but was responding to something Eomer had said. How could Silarien betray her like this? What absent-minded thing was she saying only to realise too late she'd given away vital information about Lothiriel? Lothiriel hid a groan of self-pity. Why did the Valar hate her so much?

Eomer congratulated himself as he led a visibly unwilling Silarien into the dance. She stiffened as he placed his hand on her waist. He hid a grin. Her dark stares would be enough to send a lesser man into a panic attack. Not him. She could glare all she liked but he would get his answers. The dance required the partners to be quite close together, giving him an excellent opportunity to question the girl. Something she seemed rather thrilled about, of course, he grinned.

"So, Silarien," Eomer began conversationally. "How long have Aerion and Lothiriel been in love?"

She scowled but did not answer.

"We can carry on like this for a while if you like. The dance lasts fifteen minutes."

Silarien's scowl remained. "Very well." She snapped.

"Of course I would very much prefer it if we did talk. It's very awkward dancing with someone who refuses to talk."

"How unfortunate."

"I'm glad you sympathise. Then you may answer my question."

She sniffed delicately and glanced at Lothiriel who was being swung around wildly by an angry looking Aerion. "I refuse to answer anything," She insisted but quickly added, "My lord."

"That's a shame, Silarien," Eomer sighed dramatically. "Especially since Eothain is the Captain of my guard," He watched her closely. There was no expression on her narrow face. "Which means that if he ever wishes to marry," Her nostrils flared slightly. "He will need my permission and blessing."

It worked. Of course Eomer had no intention of refusing to allow any of his men to marry if they wished to but Silarien did not know that. She swallowed loudly but stared firmly up at him. "What do you want to know?"

He smiled to himself. "Why Lothiriel is pretending to be in love with another man."

Silarien shrugged. "Why do you think? She doesn't want to marry you. The first plan didn't work so she's trying this one. This will work."

"You seem very confident."

"I am confident because I know Lothiriel. When she wants something to happen, inevitably it happens. I feel sorry for you, of course, but I can't persuade her to change her mind. It's not that she feels any strong hatred for you but she can't bear the thought that her father arranged all this without her consent or opinion." Silarien finished with a wide-eyed, sympathetic smile.

Eomer had only heard one sentence. "Why do you feel sorry for me?"

Silarien blushed. "Because I think maybe, you want to marry her a lot more than she wishes to marry you."

Eomer frowned. "How do you know that?"

"My lord, I may seem naive and innocent but I am not stupid."

"So will you tell me what I may do?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What can I do to make Lothiriel want to marry me?"

Silarien fidgeted awkwardly. "I'm afraid I cannot say; Lothiriel made me promise to help her."

"May I just ask one more question?"

She nodded slowly.

"Faramir told me in Minas Tirith that Lothiriel likes riding. Is this true?"

Silarien hesitated just as the dance finished. Amid the applause her impossibly big eyes narrowed faintly but as she slipped away from him he saw her pretty, dark head give a single nod.

As the dance finished Aerion almost stormed away from Lothiriel to the blonde girl who had watched him. When she saw him coming towards her she turned and attempted to hurry away but he caught her up easily. Lothiriel followed secretly wondering if she would need to come to Aerion's defence. This hard-looking girl did not seem the sort to suffer fools.

"Derwyn, please listen," Aerion begged. Derwyn merely stared at him blankly but took her hand from his grasp. "It's not true, I promise, I'm pretending to be in love with Lady Lothiriel as a favour to her so that she doesn't have to marry King Eomer. But it isn't true, I swear to you."

Derwyn snorted. "You expect me to believe that? I am no fool, Aerion. The Rohirrim rarely hide the truth so we can always detect who does so. You think you may have the both of us, well you may not! I do not wish to see you again." She marched away frostily. Aerion stared after her before turning painfully to face a pale Lothiriel.

"That's it Lothiriel," He started to walk briskly towards Imrahil. Panicking, Lothiriel followed, scurrying anxiously behind him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm telling your father the truth." He strode with long legs towards Imrahil.

Lothiriel hurried behind, tugging on his sleeve. "Aerion, why? I thought we agreed!"

Aerion stopped abruptly and swung around to face an anxious Lothiriel, his face hard. "Lothiriel, Derwyn doesn't believe me. You got me into this so why should I help you?"

"Aerion!" But he resumed his pace and soon came in front of the Prince. Kneeling and bowing his head contritely, Aerion shot a last look of disgust at Lothiriel who hovered uncertainly nearby.

"My lord Imrahil," Aerion's voice was loud and clear ringing through the Golden Hall and commanding silence. Lothiriel held her breath and braced herself for what was to come. "I am here to beg your pardon and beseech you with all my heart to forgive my foolish, imprudent actions against you and your House."

Stunned by the speech Imrahil merely blinked. Aerion rose from the floor and cleared his throat. "You believe there to be an...attachment between your daughter, the Lady Lothiriel and I. I regret to inform you this is not the truth and I thoughtlessly agreed to the scheme at the pleading of your daughter. I have never thought of the Princess in any way but as an older brother and a friend. Please forgive my behaviour and accept this as the whole truth."

Imrahil was silent. Eomer was silent. Lothiriel did not breathe and kept her gaze on the floor. How could Aerion humiliate her so? Did he have no shame?

Finally Imrahil sighed and massaged his temple roughly. "Lothiriel," He groaned gazing at his daughter with confusion and understanding in equal measure. "I think we will discuss this in the morning. Please go."

Embarrassed, angry and hurt Lothiriel remained. She took a step towards her father, holding her hand out. "Father, will you let me explain?" She begged.

Imrahil shook his head sadly. "Just go."

Lothiriel went.

**Thanks for reading and reviewing so far, I'm sorry if I haven't been able to reply to your review but I am really gratefu and happy when readers take the time to let me know what they think about my story. Thank you! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for all the comments so far, here's Chapter 12...**

The darkness from the windows matched Lothiriel's mood. There were no stars tonight; a thick covering of heavy, black clouds and sky masked them. She sighed and tossed in her makeshift bed on the floor of Eowyn's room. How had it all failed? She had thought by tomorrow night she would be free of the betrothal and could go home happily. Why did her father think so little of her? He would likely never wish to speak to her again. On the other hand, after her shameful actions earlier might have put King Eomer off. No. She had seen his face and he seemed interested and even amused. What right did he have to be amused at her? It was not her fault she had a useless, patronising father who did not even listen to his only daughter! It was not her fault she was miles away from home, stuck in a miserable country with hardly any friends and no allies.

There was a soft, rustling noise as the door opened and gentle candlelight filtered through the gap. A head appeared, dark in the shadow. "Lothiriel?" It was Eowyn. "Are you awake?"

Lothiriel shifted and sighed before sitting up and blinking in the light. "Yes."

Eowyn slipped into the room and placed the candle on the shelf by her bed. The warm light filled the room with comfort that had not been there before. Lothiriel pushed the rugs of her bed back and knelt up. Eowyn sat opposite her, on the edge of her bed. They regarded each other for a while in silence.

"Are you very angry with me?" Lothiriel ventured to ask at last. She did not want to know the answer. Eowyn loved her brother very much.

"Yes, I am." Came the short reply.

"Oh, I see." What did you answer to such a blunt statement?

"You know why don't you?"

"It could be for any number of reasons."

"That's true enough," Eowyn shifted slightly and leaned back on her elbows, blue eyes still fixed firmly on Lothiriel. "But I am angriest with you because you are blind."

"Am I?" What on earth was Eowyn talking about?

"Yes. Extremely so."

"Eowyn," Lothiriel wondered if Eowyn was feeling well. "I assure you, my eyesight is perfectly adequate."

Suddenly Eowyn groaned loudly and flipped on to her stomach, burying her head in her pillow. "Not that kind of blind, you fool!" Her voice was muffled but her irritation clear.

"How many kinds of blind are there?"

Eowyn raised her head from her pillow and twisted so she lay on her back, head propped up staring at Lothiriel. "Don't attempt to use your cleverness on me," She warned. "It might charm all the Dol Amroth clan but it doesn't wash with the Eorlingas."

Lothiriel smiled wryly. "Yes, I know."

"So we are agreed that you are blind?"

"Perhaps we would be if you explained why exactly I am blind when I can see you perfectly from here and indeed have never had any problem with eyesight before."

"Mm, perhaps," Eowyn nodded quickly. "I will be as blunt as I can without offending you," She smirked suddenly. "I may not succeed but I shall endeavour to do so, I promise. So...you came to Rohan with the understanding that you were betrothed to my brother," Lothiriel accepted this with an inclination of her head. "You do not like this arrangement and have sought many ways of attempting to get out of it despite the announcement of it this evening. These ways have amused and entertained the guests and my brother," At this Lothiriel rolled her eyes but Eowyn ignored her. "However I am the one person in that hall tonight who knows my brother better than myself and he was hurt by your callous attempts."

Eowyn finished triumphantly. Lothiriel gazed at her in confusion. "He was hurt?" It did not fit the twinkle in his eyes or the grin dancing on his lips.

"I believe so, yes."

"But...why?"

"Lothiriel," Eowyn shuffled down the bed until she was on the edge almost facing Lothiriel. "I think he is in love with you."

"What?" No. No. No. And no.

"Oh Lothiriel!" Eowyn rolled on to her back, clutching her heart. "How can you not see? He has never been like this over a woman before. It's so romantic!"

Romantic? "Eowyn, please," Lothiriel stood up and went to Eowyn's side. It was extremely important Eowyn understood this. "I am not going to marry Eomer."

Eowyn frowned and sat up. "Why? He's the best man in the world."

"How would you like it if when your uncle had lived, he had informed you that he had arranged your marriage to a stranger, a man you had met once? To someone that you had heard terrifying stories about, someone who was about ten feet tall, muscles as wide as this Hall and a voice deeper than the ocean?"

Eowyn considered. "My uncle knew me better than to try and do that. Besides he loved me too much."

"But say he had. To one of his friends who you barely knew. To a man you thought you could like but you resented the way you had been treated."

Eowyn chewed on her lip thoughtfully, twirling a finger through her hair. "I suppose I would do what you are doing," She admitted at last. "It just seems different when it's your own brother that is enduring it."

"Eowyn," Lothiriel sat beside her. "I respect your brother very much and I consider you a good friend. But there are some things that respect and affection cannot do. And marrying a man I do not know is one of them."

"I thought such arrangements were common in Gondor?"

"They are but that does not mean I will accept one for myself."

"I wish you would reconsider," Eowyn slid off her bed and began to take the white jewels out of her hair. "Eomer does not give his heart freely, but when he does he gives it forever."

Lothiriel groaned. "Do not say that! The only way I can look at myself in the mirror at the moment is to think that I am doing the right thing for him as well as for myself."

Eowyn raised her eyebrows sympathetically and began to unlace her gown. "I wish I could say that you are, but I do not think that is so."

_The waves pounded relentlessly against the white sands, hardened by the water's stony force. Some sort of log was floating closer and closer to the shore; dark against the radiant blue of the ocean. Lothiriel sighed and stretched out on the sands, her muscles aching from the long ride. There was no sign of the white roses she had looked for all that morning. Silarien had promised they grew along the sand dunes but she must have been mistaken. Lothiriel's mother adored white roses. There were never enough in the palace gardens so Lothiriel had taken Durion out along the sands to look for some. _

_The tide was slowly coming in. The more adventurous waves lapped softly against Lothiriel's feet, finding no gap in her hard riding boots. She smiled contentedly as the spring sun lightened her face and warmed the wet sand a little. Slowly she sat up and pulled her arms above her head. She had clung to Durion for too long and they were sorer than they had been since she was a little girl. Gazing out to the sea Lothiriel saw the log had floated even closer with the tide. Except, surely that was no log? Suppressing a scream of terror and recoiling from the water's edge Lothiriel felt her blood run to ice in her veins and a thousand drums banged inside her head. Stars floated in front of her eyes and the sun became a ball of fire, scorching her skin. Then the 'log' drifted on to the sand and Lothiriel screamed. _

"Lothiriel?"

_And screamed. _

"Lothiriel!"

_And screamed. _

Silarien gave up trying to hold down the wildly flailing arms of Lothiriel and wake her. Turning to a horrified Eowyn, she demanded, "Hold down her body and keep calling her name. I'm going to get Imrahil!"

She raced from the bedroom stumbling in the semi-darkness of the corridors. Where would Imrahil be? Would he have retired? Would he be in the hall or a study or a library or outside? Silarien's bare, pale feet thumped against the cold wooden floor, wincing when she encountered a nail or splinter. Where in the name of the Valar and all who worshipped them, was Imrahil? Her breath spent from sprinting down half of Meduseld, Silarien paused and began to cry. Furiously dashing the tears from her face with a rough hand, she bent over and felt her stomach turn to lead. She needed to find Imrahil. Pressing a hand against her drumming forehead Silarien began to run but stopped when low voices caught her attention.

A closed door faced her and the familiar drawl of Imrahil reached her. Breathless Silarien slammed the door open and stood in the doorway, face shiny with sweat and hands clammy. She rushed to Imrahil who was seated at a desk with Eomer and King Elessar, pulling him to his feet desperately. "Quickly, you must come!" She shouted keenly, perspiration pouring from her face and her loose black hair flying about her shoulders. Ignoring the curious looks from the two kings she dragged Imrahil out of the rom. "I cannot wake her! You must come!"

Imrahil realised and his face gaunt and hollow he raced after a tearing Silarien hastily followed by a puzzled Aragorn and worried Eomer. They reached Eowyn's bedchamber and Imrahil burst in, immediately falling to the ground by his daughter's side. Eowyn fell back and lit more candles. Eomer and Aragorn remained in the doorway but Silarien pushed past them and knelt on Lothiriel's other side, clasping her hand. Lothiriel's eyes were wide open but she was clearly still asleep. Shaking uncontrollably, she moaned and cried out, twisting and shuddering. Horrified Imrahil shouted her name. There was no change.

Swallowing hardly he yanked her up so she was raised from the floor and slapped her on the face once with great force. Eowyn gasped but Silarien said nothing, just held Lothiriel up who had abruptly woken, tears pouring down her ghostly face, breathing heavily as if she had just run a great distance.

"Lothiriel?" Imrahil murmured softly. Lothiriel snapped her head to face his, eyes large and bewildered.

"Father," She mumbled, leaning up on her hands and staring up in burgeoning horror at the sight of Eomer, Aragorn and Eowyn. "I saw her, I saw her again..."

Imrahil nodded and pressed his lips unhappily to his daughter's head. "I know my darling."

He twisted to face Silarien. "Would you sleep with her tonight, my dear?" He asked gently. Silarien nodded blankly and slid in the covers next to Lothiriel. Imrahil remained to settle them both in as he had done when they were children before expelling a great breath he had been holding. He walked out slowly, gesturing for the others to leave before him, even Eowyn. She did not protest at having to leave her own chamber but followed her brother and Aragorn down the corridor to Eomer's study. When they had reached it, Imrahil shut the door purposely and turned reluctantly to face his puzzled friends.

"If you do not wish," Eowyn began tentatively. "We will ask you no questions but, surely, Lothiriel is in need of help?"

Imrahil shook his head firmly. "She has them rarely anymore, it does not need to involve any form of healer or help no matter how great they be." He inclined his head slightly to Aragorn.

For a few moments there was a charged silence but then Imrahil sat heavily in a wooden chair, massaging his temples roughly. "I will tell you, my friends," He offered at last. "It is not exactly a secret although I have tried to let as few people know as possible," He paused for a moment thinking carefully. "A few years ago, when Lothiriel was just a girl her mother, my beloved wife Iriven took the choice to go swimming one spring morning. She asked Lothiriel to collect some of her beautiful white roses whilst she was doing that so Lothiriel saddled Durion and went to search for some along the coast as that is where they seem to grow in Dol Amroth. However," Imrahil stopped with a heavy look on his face. He attempted bravely to continue. "However my wife had misjudged the tides that day and they were far stronger than she had anticipated. So as Lothiriel was looking for the flowers, Iriven...Iriven," A broken sob. "She...drowned. Alone and cold in the water," Eowyn made to stand and comfort Imrahil but he waved her away. "No, no, let me finish before you show me any pity. That is not the end of the sorry story. For then Lothiriel came down to the beach and...and she happened across her mother's body, floating onto land." Imrahil began to cry quietly.

Eomer was shocked. He had never seen a man such as Imrahil cry before. It seemed unnatural. As for the tale he had just relayed to them...no wonder Lothiriel suffered from nightmares. At a young age to stumble across a corpse and the corpse of your mother...it must have been unbearable for her. Eomer's heart swelled with compassion and he felt for the girl who must have cried a thousand tears a day for her loss. He remembered the sour, dead feelings of grief himself. He remembered the denial, the anger, the desolation, the wildness and found he felt almost warm. Lothiriel was not on her own, he decided, I will take her riding tomorrow and I will talk with her.

"My friends," Imrahil looked up from Eowyn's comforting arms and Aragorn's gentle hand on his shoulder. "When morning comes Lothiriel will most likely have forgotten that you were present in her distress. I would ask you not to remind her of it, if that is all right? I cannot bear to have her hurt any more than she already is."

"Of course," Eomer agreed at once and his sister and Aragorn offered their promises too. Imrahil retired shortly after with many words of apology but even more of thanks.

Aragorn and Eomer remained for a little while after Eowyn had also retired to talk. Aragorn was helpful and wise as he always was but he spoke of healing and softness. Eomer had to disagree. He thought he knew how to help Lothiriel and gentle words of care were not the way to soothe her burning mind. She needed more fire to overcome the flames of her painful memories. Fire that was red and whole and good.

The sort of fire to be found in a furious rush of hooves across the plains, a white sun scorching their skin and the tender smile of a blue-eyed man.

**Thanks for reading, please let me know your thoughts!:)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Enjoy...:))**

Lothiriel dressed quickly the next morning, throwing on a light cotton dress and her riding boots as they were the nearest thing to her. Eowyn had already risen and was likely in the hall, eating breakfast. Lothiriel had noticed that most of the Rohirrim present at Meduseld seemed to rise with the sun, eat a light meal and then depart for a couple of hours to do various jobs and then returned to have a much larger breakfast with the guests and everyone there sitting at the tables. It was an alien custom to her but Eowyn had explained that the Rohirrim quickly got something to eat to sustain them for a little while but the larger later breakfast was so that everyone could enjoy each other's company.

Silarien however had lingered and was leaning against the north facing windows gazing up at the foreboding mountains. She claimed she had waited for Lothiriel but the latter secretly suspected Silarien didn't want to go in on her own. Some things never changed.

The nightmare last night had been different though. The actual dream itself had been the same but after it, when her father had woken her...something had been different. Silarien had not said anything and neither had Eowyn and Lothiriel did not really want to ask them about it. Her policy was: never mention it and it will disappear. It did not always work. In fact it rarely did but if nothing else, her pride prevented her from talking about it.

"Are you nearly ready?" An impatient voice broke through her musings. Eowyn had returned, poking her face around the door. "Surely it doesn't take that long to get dressed!" She glanced at Lothiriel's dress and frowned. "No, no, you'll have to change that dress, I'm afraid," She entered the room and pulled out a green riding dress from her own wardrobe. Flinging it at a confused Lothiriel, Eowyn grinned and joined Silarien at the window. "Hurry up Lothiriel and get dressed!"

"Eowyn, why on earth do I need a riding dress? Won't I look just a little ridiculous wearing this?"

"Why ever would you? I've heard that that is what women wear when they go riding."

"Yes but I'm not going riding."

"Ah," Eowyn and Silarien exchanged wry looks. "Sorry to disappoint you dearest, but you are. So hurry along and put it on."

"Why aren't you wearing one?" Lothiriel eyed Eowyn's flowing white gown with small yellow suns embroidered on the hem. It was very pretty but hardly suited for riding. Nonetheless she obediently began shedding her cotton dress and pulling on the green riding outfit.

"Why would I?"

"I assume I'm going riding with you?"

Eowyn coughed awkwardly but waited until Lothiriel was fully dressed before answering. She began to lead her to the door and flung it open impatiently. The two women strode down the corridor, Eowyn slightly faster than her friend. "Actually Lothiriel," She turned a corner. "It isn't me you will be riding with." They entered the hall and Eowyn scanned it quickly. She found who she was searching for and started to casually pull Lothiriel in his direction.

"Who in the name of the Valar am I riding with then?" Lothiriel demanded, feeling her patience start to slip. Eowyn merely grinned and slipped away to Faramir leaving Lothiriel staring up at two twinkling blue eyes and a mane of tawny hair.

"Good morning my lady." Eomer bowed slightly.

Lothiriel swallowed a groan of annoyance. "Good morning my lord." She replied civilly. She then noticed he was also dressed for riding and could not control a scowl spreading across her face. "Oh please say you aren't coming with me?"

Eomer grinned. "I wish I could spare you, Lady Lothiriel but unfortunately I cannot," He took her arm firmly and carried her along with him to the door. The early sun shone through cleanly and Eomer's smile widened. "It's a beautiful day for a ride and I want to show you something."

"Can't you show someone else instead?" Lothiriel grumbled but allowed him to lead her down the steps to the stables where Durion and Firefoot were already saddled. Eomer shook his head, amused at her comment. He made to help her mount Durion but she stayed him with an imperious wave of her hand, leaping into the saddle gracefully. Eomer watched with wide eyes. "Shouldn't a milksop of a Princess be able to do that?" She challenged him lightly.

Eomer cleared his throat and laughed simply. "No," He admitted, mounting his own horse with the same ease. "But I know enough of you by now, Lothiriel, to realise you are no milksop."

She inclined her head at the compliment but did not reply. They rode out of the city gates in silence each caught up in their own thoughts. Lothiriel was still smarting from having to be there in the first place.

At first Lothiriel galloped off on her own, humming cheerfully. She was in bad company, it was true, but the sun was shining, it was summer and she was young. Life was good. Or it was until with a small laugh Eomer drew Firefoot in front of Durion and began racing towards a mountain in the distance. Infuriated but exhilarated, she rose to the challenge and galloped faster and faster but somehow she still could not keep up and with a laugh, drew back after a few minutes, relinquishing the victory. Eomer slowed too but did not stop, calling back to her, "Come, we aren't quite there yet."

They carried on riding to the mountain until it wasn't in the distance anymore. Eomer halted and slid off Firefoot, gesturing for Lothiriel to do the same. She followed reluctantly to the sloping bottom of the steep mountain where the horses were loosely tied to a jagged boulder. "Can you climb?"

She blinked. "What?"

He paused from perusing the mountain side and turned to grin at her. "Do you think you can climb this mountain?" His blue eyes glinted with a challenge and despite the rising wave of dread inside her when she stared up at the rocky mounds, Lothiriel nodded firmly. Eomer shrugged and turned back, grabbing on to an outcrop of grey rock and swinging his feet up below them.

She followed slowly trying to copy his movements and moving her own feet where his had been moments before. It was a long, perilous climb and at one point she made the mistake of glancing down. Eomer heard her gasp and called down, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." But from then on Lothiriel kept her gaze firmly ahead on the back of Eomer's boots. The horses had seemed very, very small.

At last the almost non-existent path up the mountain seemed to level out and as Lothiriel heaved herself up the last ridge she gave a huge sigh of relief and sprawled out. Eomer, standing next to her pulled her up to her complaining. "Don't die on me yet," he chuckled, half-carrying, half-leading her across the mountain-top. It was wider up there than Lothiriel had thought. "I want to show you something."

He gently removed his hands from her waist and took her hand instead. She decided to tolerate it for the moment; it was quite chilly up at the top of the mountain and his hand was very warm. They walked in silence to the other side of the mountain. Eomer sat down in the middle of an oddly shaped semi-circle of tall rocks. When Lothiriel joined him she found the rocks sheltered them from the wind but allowed them to see the view. And what a view it was. She knelt up in wonder, staring out across the plains. It was like a dream. Bands of horses grazed in the distance tended by small figures with long blonde hair easily distinguished even from Lothiriel's view. Scatterings of small cottages or huts with gates keeping a goat or a pig in the back formed pretty hamlets with children playing in the long grass and women with scarves wrapped around their beautiful hair collecting water and talking. She understood exactly why Eomer wanted to show it to her.

When she could breathe again Lothiriel leant back against a rock and shook her head in amazement. "It's like a magic world," she breathed. "One that you could control by simply extending your hand and moving the people about. One that is completely yours to have."

"It is a little bit like that," replied Eomer seriously. "For me, I mean. Every word I say can affect these people. Their whole life could shift because of one word that comes from my lips."

Lothiriel gazed at him with wide eyes. "You say that as if it is a bad thing."

He shrugged. "It depends how you look at it. I can cause so much happiness. But so much pain too."

"You're only human," reminded Lothiriel gently. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Kings can't afford to make mistakes," he answered shortly and then regretted it when her face closed up again. For a minute she had talked to him openly and he had ruined it, again.

"Lothiriel, I'm sorry," he tried. She turned to look at him and in a fleeting second for no reason he could think of at all, she reminded him of Eowyn. A sweet, trusting face. The overwhelming urge to protect and cherish. Except with this woman he also felt the desire to hold her and adore her and love her. If she would let him. In that fleeting second he knew he had to tell her that he had seen her in her nightmare. He knew Imrahil did not want him to tell her and Eomer would be breaking his word by talking of it with Lothiriel but his choice was made. He knew he wanted to help her. "Lothiriel, may I tell you something that will distress you?"

Her brow puckered. It was an odd question, he owned. "I don't really think I can stop you," she replied slowly. "But yes, you may."

"Last night," he began painfully. "You slept badly," her eyes narrowed. "I know because...because I saw you."

"Saw me what?" she demanded.

"I saw you as you were...asleep."

"What do you mean?" her voice was dangerously low.

"Lothiriel –," he tried to explain but she interrupted feverishly.

"– don't tell anyone, I beg you!" she cried. "Please, say you will not!"

She was so upset he saw no choice but to promise. "I swear on my sister's life I will not," he promised truthfully. "But, I cannot understand, it is not something to be ashamed of –,"

"– oh it is!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "What do you think the people of Dol Amroth would say if they knew their princess could not even rid her mind of evils whilst she slept? What do you think my friends would say if they knew I was some sort of invalid, not able to forget something that happened years ago?"

"I think they would be compassionate," he said truthfully. "It is not a weakness. I know every Rider in Rohan has suffered from nightmares after their first battle at least. I did myself," he paused. "I still do sometimes."

She glanced up, surprised. "You suffer from nightmares?"

He nodded. "You can never begin to understand the horrors of battle. Even the most hardened of warriors has cried after they killed their first man," he hesitated and added. "It was more likely to be an Orc but it is still a hard thing to bear. The blood, for one thing."

"Is it truly that horrible?" asked Lothiriel innocently.

He nodded and said, "Sometimes I think I would have been happier if I'd settled down in Aldburg to raise horses and build cottages."

Lothiriel laughed. "Somehow I can't imagine you doing that."

Eomer grinned too. He stared at her. "I love you." His own shock matched the expression on Lothiriel's face. Where in the name of the Valar, had that come from? Yet he knew, as soon as he had said it, that it was the truth.

She stared down at the ground for a moment and then cleared her throat as she stood. "I'd like to return now," she asked coolly. "If I may."

He stood too but she stalked off in the direction of the rocky descent. "Lothiriel!" he walked after her but she did not stop. "Lothiriel, wait, please let me explain."

"No!" She halted abruptly and looked at him with disgust. "How dare you? You try and get me up here to take advantage of me and expect me just to take it."

She began to lower herself down. "Lothiriel, be careful!" She ignored him and continued to climb down haphazardly. Eomer closed his eyes, praying she would not fall. When he opened them she had mounted Durion and had spurred him to gallop off. He descended hastily himself and leapt on to Firefoot, urging him forward. He raced after Lothiriel, catching her up just as she slowed to rejoin the road that led back to Edoras.

"How long Lothiriel?" Eomer shouted across the wind. "How long until you accept it?"

She gritted her teeth. "You bought me like a common mare at a market!" she shouted. "When will you accept this mare is not going to be tamed?"

Eomer fell back, letting her draw ahead. To himself he finally admitted what his sister had been trying to tell him for years. "You, Eomer, are the biggest idiot in the whole of Middle Earth."

The thought was even in Eowyn's voice.

**I would just like to say, I got an anonymous review saying someone else's story had Lothiriel finding her mother's body on the beach so if you know of that story or you are the author, please let me know and I will change it accordingly. I apologise; I honestly wasn't aware of that but if you want me to change the idea, that is completely fine. **

**Also, a couple of people have mentioned Lothiriel acting immaturely. I agree and I hope that the next couple of chapters will address that and make her more likeable for those who presently don't like her! Anyway, thanks a bunch for reading and do please continue to let me know what you think! :D**


	14. Chapter 14

**It's been a long time since I updated but even so, enjoy the chapter!**

Hurt and upset Lothiriel stormed through Meduseld until she discovered a small pantry-like room where she could be alone. She slumped on to the floor and allowed herself a carefully timed two minutes of weeping. How confusing everything was! How exhausting and draining and strange and...and terrible. She stayed there for hours, thinking and crying alternately but her thoughts and tears were for no one but herself.

* * *

Silarien had wished to see the gardens of Meduseld herself and had sought out Amrothos to take her. She found him in the stables talking to a blonde haired man. With a thrill of happiness she saw it was Eothain.

"Silarien," Amrothos greeted his cousin. Eothain grinned at her. She blushed. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask if you would take me to the gardens but if you are busy then –,"

"– not at all!" interrupted Amrothos but Eothain cleared his throat.

"If it is more convenient I will show the lady our fine gardens," he offered, hiding his eagerness. "I am sure you must have many things to do, yourself."

Amrothos deliberated. "Well, to be perfectly candid, Silarien, I did mean to look around the city with Aerion. Do you mind very much if Eothain takes you instead?"

Her eyes shined. "No, I don't mind at all."

They walked slowly and in silence to the gardens. Eothain pulled the gate open and gestured for Silarien to enter. He cleared his throat meaningfully. She turned around, a question in her eyes.

"What did you think of my gift?" he asked quietly, almost shyly. It was one of the things she loved best about him, thought Silarien tenderly. He was so confident and teasing with an audience...but when it was just the two of them he was gentle. He was sweet, although she would never tell anyone.

She smiled warmly. The wildflowers had been pressed and folded in a handkerchief to preserve them. "I thought they were beautiful," she replied honestly. Eothain chuckled. "It was one of the things that made me want to see the gardens."

"Truly?" He seemed touched. "I am glad to hear that."

"Why?"

He paused and took her hand, gently pulling her back to him. "Because there was something I wished to say to you and I wanted to say it here."

Silarien's heart momentarily stopped beating. His eyes were so blue. His hair was tousled by the wind and lay golden and wild around his shoulders. "What did you want to say?" she asked slowly.

He frowned and ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. "I'm not one for long declarations, Silarien, you know that, I –,"

"– please," she begged. "Just say it."

He hesitated before taking both of her hands and pressing them to his lips. "Silarien, I am in love with you," his eyes brushed along the ground. "And I would have you marry me."

Eothain glanced up as Silarien's hands dropped from his. "Have I offended you?" he asked anxiously. "Did I speak without thought?"

Silarien's face crumpled as she turned away from him, tears forming in her eyes. "You know I cannot accept."

"Because you do not love me?"

She swung around with wide eyes. "No! Of course I love you," she answered passionately. "I have never loved anyone as I love you, Eothain!"

"Then, why not?" His heart sank further and further down his chest. The air seemed colder and tighter.

Silarien clenched her fists and murmured, "Because it would be betraying Lothiriel."

Eothain's eyes widened with surprise and disbelief. "You cannot be serious," he said slowly. "I ask you to marry me and all you can think of is that damned girl!"

He began to stalk away, his head throbbing with anger but a sobbing Silarien held on to him and tried in vain to pull him back. "Please Eothain! Please, you must understand –,"

"– oh I understand very well, Silarien –,"

"– no you do not!" Silarien released her grip to wipe her tears from her face. At once Eothain moved away. She stumbled after him, determined to explain. "Lothiriel is going back to Dol Amroth. I must go with her! She would be lost without me, you know she would be!"

"I don't give a damn about that stupid, selfish whore."

"Eothain!" Silarien gasped. "Do not speak of her in such a way, I beg you!"

He stopped abruptly and allowed Silarien to face him. Gazing harshly into her face, he traced her cheekbone gently. "They all said you were just her little lapdog. I didn't believe it before but now I see it is true." He continued to walk away but this time Silarien did not follow.

* * *

Lothiriel finally recovered from her tears with a pulsing headache and tingling nerves. "I must go outside," she murmured to herself, fiddling with shaking hands on the latch of the door and stepping into the dusty corridor. She made her way carefully through Meduseld until she found an open door, walking out into the sun and the air.

There seemed to be no one about. Lothiriel breathed deeply, clearing her insides and calming herself. It would all be over soon, she was sure of it.

Her solitude continued for a few minutes before she spotted Silarien walking around the side of the Golden Hall, her face in her hands. "Silarien!" she shouted. The girl looked up and stood staring at Lothiriel for a moment before walking in her direction.

As Silarien got closer Lothiriel noticed red patches on her face and her grey eyes bloodshot and heavy. "Have you been crying?" she enquired. "What's happened?"

Silarien's face crumpled and tears began to seep from her eyes again. "E-Eothain asked me to marry him!" she cried. "And I said n-no!"

Lothiriel's mouth fell open and she held out her arms to embrace her cousin. As Silarien sobbed loudly on to Lothiriel's shoulder, Lothiriel absorbed the shock. When Silarien was able to talk, Lothiriel asked her gently, "Why would you say no?"

"B-because I cannot leave you!" was the tearful reply. Lothiriel's heart tightened. "Because you would never forgive me if I stayed in Rohan without you!"

"It sounds to me as if you would not forgive yourself," when Silarien nodded to this Lothiriel spoke without thinking. "Then perhaps it is for the best?"

Silarien's sobs stilled and she wrenched herself away from Lothiriel, her face sharp and hurt. "For the best?" she echoed dangerously. Then she exploded. "He was right! You are selfish and stupid and immature and everything else he said!" Lothiriel gasped. "How could I have put up with this for the Valar know how many years? I have done everything, given up everything for you Lothiriel and this, this," Silarien spat violently on the floor. "This is how you repay me!" She picked up her dress and ran away, too angry to cry. Lothiriel watched her form disappear around the side of Meduseld, her mind numb with shock. So that was how Silarien and Eothain thought of her. As a selfish, foolish little girl. Oh Valar, no. Not Silarien, not her oldest friend, her cousin, her sister.

Lothiriel found her way back inside and by a miracle into Eowyn's empty chamber. No servant asked her anything as she stumbled blindly along the corridors and she had met no guest, thankfully. She collapsed on the bed and allowed the hot, stinging tears to stain her cheeks. She cried and cried and cried. Only once before had she wept as she did then with all the feeling and regret she had lacked earlier and that was when her mother had died. "It is all my fault," she choked. "It's all my own fault."

_Two girls stooped and brushed the grass in the gardens of the palace by the sea. Red roses grew everywhere; their sweet fragrance dancing in the air. One girl was silent, her hands scanning the gardens for the elusive white flower, her mind frozen on the picture of the rose she was looking for. The other girl helped her but with a steady flow of words from her lips. She spoke as if she did not expect an answer and that was how it was. A servant walked hastily towards them across the long grass, a tall young lady pacing leisurely behind him. "Excuse me, Lady Lothiriel, Lady Silarien but the Lady Malleth is here to see you." Lothiriel made no noise or movement; she simply kept her eyes on the grass. Silarien stood up fully, offering a curtsey and a small greeting. Lady Malleth raised her eyebrows at the kneeling Lothiriel. "What in the name of the Valar does she think she is doing, do you suppose?" _

"_She's looking for white roses," explained Silarien quietly. "For her mother's grave." Malleth's eyebrows rose higher up her cold forehead. "Hasn't it been a year? Shouldn't she be over it by now?" she asked vaguely. Silarien shrugged uncomfortably. "Anyway, dear Silarien, what I wanted to ask is if you wanted to come to the harbour with me? My cousin is here from Lebennin and he has brought the biggest yacht you can imagine!" Malleth's gold eyes glimmered. "I remembered you said you had not been out in a boat for months and you wished to do so again soon. So I thought of you and came here directly!"She waited expectantly but Silarien hesitated. "Is Lothiriel invited?" The other girl sighed. "Well, I suppose so. Although," she lowered her voice. "Between you and me Silarien, our poor little princess is always so depressed when one sees her that there is really no point in us asking her. She'd just spoil it don't you think?" _

_Silarien said nothing just moved away, towards Lothiriel. Malleth stared after her in confusion. "Silarien? Are you coming? Look, Lothiriel won't notice, just slip away now and she won't even see you go." Silarien shook her head but still said nothing. Eventually Malleth took the hint and left, embarrassed but Silarien did nothing save join Lothiriel on her knees by the old ash tree by the wishing well. "What did Malleth want?" Lothiriel murmured. Silarien hesitated. "Nothing," she answered at last. "She just wanted to see how you were."_

Lothiriel woke without even realising she had been asleep. She woke with the clearest thought she had ever had in her life. A thought she felt she must have dreamt although she could remember nothing from her dreams. _What have I done?_ She thought of the people lining the streets of Edoras, welcoming back their fallen king. She thought of the bereaved siblings trying to forge a life from a world of broken things. She thought of her father who had sacrificed his own second chance of happiness to nurse his only daughter back to health when his wife died. He had been forced to forget his own grief in order to heal hers. And finally she thought of poor, dear Silarien who again and again chose Lothiriel over herself. "They say humans are selfish, that they cannot help it," thought Lothiriel sadly. "But that is not true. The only selfish one is me."

She sat up, brushing her long hair with her fingers. She knew what she had to do. Suddenly furious with herself she jumped off the bed and fixed her clothes. "What right do I have to tease and play games and be foolish when the people of Edoras, no, the people of Rohan are starving and grieving?" She chastised herself aloud as she quickly combed her hair and tied it back loosely. "What gives me the right to withhold my wealth from this country when I have had everything from the day I was born? By the Valar, Lothiriel, you silly, silly woman, what have you done?"

She hurried from the chamber and down the hallways, corridors and passed all the rooms until she came upon the great hall. Most of the guests were there, by the fire, talking or drinking or eating. To her relief her father but not Eomer was there, drinking a wooden mug of ale and laughing with Elphir. He caught sight of his daughter and waved her over but his face had turned serious.

Lothiriel took a deep breath. "Father, may I say something?" He opened his mouth but she continued. "Oh, do, please let me speak!" He sighed and gestured for her to carry on. "Well, Father, I have been thinking and," she stopped, the words refusing to come to her lips. "I have been thinking and well...and," she cleared her throat and focused her gaze on the wrinkle just below her father's hairline. "I am willing to marry Eomer and I swear to cause no more hurt or upset because of my own desires. I see now that I was selfish and...and, well, I am so sorry. For all of it." She stopped abruptly and moved her eyes back to her father's. He looked odd. "Father?"

"Lothiriel, you fool..." he choked.

"Father?" Lothiriel was startled. "What do you mean?"

Imrahil glanced helplessly at his eldest son. Elphir frowned. "Lothiriel," he began heavily. "I am afraid that these sentiments are too late."

"Late?" Oh no...

"Far, far too late."


	15. Chapter 15

"Far, far too late."

Lothiriel stared at her father in shock. His eyes surveyed her stonily. He was serious. She bit her lips, swallowing nervously, desperately trying to think. She was too late.

"What's happened?" she murmured eventually.

"Eomer has called the betrothal off –,"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Lothiriel interrupted. "What?" she cried.

"He did not state his reasons although I think we all know very well why this has happened."

Lothiriel wasn't listening; her mind was whirring with thoughts. He'd broken of the betrothal. She should have been ecstatic. It was what she had wanted. She had no more responsibility to him or his country. She could go home. Go home with a heartbroken Silarien and a cold, disappointed father and the cries of starving children behind her. She had changed her mind. And now it was too late.

"Where is he now Father?" she demanded.

"There's nothing you can do, he is decided on the matter –,"

"Please, just tell me where he is!"

Imrahil pursed his lips but then nodded curtly. "I believe he is in the stables. But don't –," Lothiriel didn't hear what he didn't want her to do, she had already sped out of the great hall, away from her father and her brother and all of the other people shooting her odd looks. The stables, the stables, the stables. The words thumped like a drum inside her mind, along with too late, too late, too late. It was as though they were fighting each other. The stables. Too late. If she could get to the stables before she was too late...if she was too late to get to the stables...

Lothiriel stopped running when she reached the door to the stables. Catching her breath she listened carefully. She recognised Eomer's distinctive voice and a couple of others she did not know but guessed were Rohirrim. She pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart and tried to calm it. Adrenaline rushed through her, causing it to beat even faster. It was now or never. She would have to beg him for another chance, plead with him, sacrifice her dignity and pride and all of those other princess-like qualities she'd spent her whole life cultivating. But if she could do it, if her dignity was enough for him, then she would gladly give it up. With that thought, Lothiriel pushed the door open and was emerged in the comforting smell of horse and leather. It was now or never.

* * *

Eomer watched the slim dark haired woman step timidly to him. Her face was turned towards his but her eyes watched the floor. He could tell by the way she clasped her hands that she was afraid. He gave a quick command to the stable hands to leave them and asked her what she wanted. She clicked her teeth together nervously before she spoke.

"I'm here to say that I am sorry," she began slowly. "For everything, for my appalling behaviour. I was awful."

"I won't believe you if you don't look at me," he replied gently.

Lothiriel's eyes rose. She seemed to gather confidence because she unclasped her hands and spoke again. "I know you think I'm ungrateful and silly and useless but I'd be very grateful – no, I'd be happier than anything if you would reconsider your decision."

"My decision to end our understanding, you mean?"

"Yes."

He studied her carefully. "It's all right, you know. I'll say it's because of some flaw in the marriage agreements or that I've realised I'm not ready to marry yet. You won't have to worry about your reputation."

She smiled wryly. "I think I've killed my reputation all by myself."

"You probably have," he agreed cheerfully. "Still, there will be no further damage, I promise."

"I'm not worried about that," she insisted. "I couldn't care less about that –,"

Eomer raised his eyebrows. "You've come to care for me enough to actually want to marry me then?"

She almost choked. "I – I don't know. I want to marry you. It's the right thing to do and I'd be letting down so many people that I really think –,"

"I was asking you if you wanted to marry me because you actually want to. Not because you think you should want to." He didn't even know if that made sense but she seemed to understand what he was asking her because her cheeks gave her guilt away in a red flush.

"Did you know that Silarien is very much in love with Eothain?" she asked him lightly.

"I did know that."

"He has asked her to marry him."

"Yes, he has."

"She said no."

"I thought she had. I have never seen Eothain quite like he is now and he refuses to speak about it."

Lothiriel considered this, he watched her eyes flicker. Then she frowned. "She said no because of me. Because it would mean staying here when I so wanted to go back home. She was so selfless. And I...I wasn't...well, she's angry with me. I hate myself. I just want to make her happy as she's made me happy all of my life."

"It's admirable that you want to make your cousin happy," Eomer told her kindly. "So you will understand when I say that I want to make you happy. This is why I am releasing you from our betrothal."

"But I –,"

"No," he insisted. "If the choice is watching you wither away here from loneliness and homesickness or letting you go to be happy, I would let you go. And I hope you are happy Lothiriel."

He walked away from her then, leaving her standing in the musty gloom of the stables.

* * *

There was always something soothing in having one's hair brushed, Lothiriel reflected as she sat combing through her own hair. Something that was not quite the same when you did it yourself. She had come back from the stables to Eowyn's room and sat on Eowyn's bed, brushing her hair. She'd been brushing for well over an hour and had no intention of stopping. She could think while she was doing something over and over again. She could breathe as wisps of hair flew from her head in whizzes of static. Everything was cleared from the jumbled mess of her thoughts and she could start again, making it all clear to herself.

She was going to marry Eomer. And now she was not. Silarien and her father and her brothers were unhappy. She could not go back to Dol Amroth without making it better. And she could not do that. She had lost her only chance of doing something good with her cosseted, soft life. It was back to the palace and the sea and the silver platters and silk sheets and velvet gowns and the marble courtyards and the endless rows of servants. Not so long ago it would have been heaven for Lothiriel. But not now. All she wanted now was to...she did not even know. It was all still jumbled up in her head and no amount of brushing would clear it.

Eomer did not want to make her unhappy. That was why he had ended their betrothal. He cared more for her happiness than Eothain's. He was right, though. What good was an empty shell of a woman for a queen? How could she help her people if she was too busy feeling sorry for herself? Lothiriel tried to imagine herself as Queen of Rohan. She saw golden meadows and sparkling rivers and horses, lots of horses. It would never happen now, she told herself and a shadow passed through her chest. It was wistfulness.

Startled, she put the brush down and went to the window. The sight of the country did not calm her but only made her feel stranger than ever. She did not want to leave here, she realised with a sudden jolt. And not because it was the 'right thing to do' or because she cared about Silarien's happiness. She wanted to stay here because she truly wanted to. Oh Valar, she wanted to stay here with Eomer. And it was impossible. Nothing she said now would convince him. He would just think she was acting out of her previous sense of duty.

She lay back on the bed overcome with grief. Was this what love was? An overwhelming sense of helplessness and sorrow? Did she even love Eomer? A dull ache in her chest answered her question. Silarien was not like this with Eothain. Her father had not been like this with her mother. Silarien had never been happier than when she was with Eothain and yet now she never stopped crying. Just like her father when her mother had died. It dawned on Lothiriel. The sadness came when you knew that you could never be with the person you loved.

So she loved him. She was lying here acknowledging it and doing nothing about it. The biggest part of her was resigned to her fate. Leave it; she whispered to herself, there's nothing you can do. Stop now while you can.

Then there was a tiny, suppressed part of her that was wondering why she was still lying there, motionless. Get up, it murmured to her, get up and do something now while you can. You don't know what's happening. Your father might be this very minute making preparations to leave.

It was a small part of her but it was getting bigger. Lothiriel sat up. Even if it was humiliating, even if he had nothing else to say to her, even if he thought she was weak and spineless, she would go and tell Eomer that she was in love with him. That even if he still did not want to marry her, she would go on loving him. It would not make a difference whether he changed his mind or not.

Resolved at last, Lothiriel left the room and made her way down the corridor, her fingers trembling against the heavy fabric of her dress. Her shoes were loud on the stone. Would he still be in the stables or around them? He could be anywhere in Meduseld, anywhere in Edoras.

She stopped. How long had she been in Eowyn's room? Two hours, three? Where would Eomer be at this time of the day? Was it still daytime? She crossed to the nearest window. The day had gone grey and it told her nothing.

There was the quick sound of another's footsteps echoing along the hall. Heavy, male footsteps. Before she could prepare herself, Eothain rounded the corner and stood still as he observed a stricken Lothiriel. He muttered something in Rohirric, nothing very complimentary Lothiriel supposed. He made to walk past her but Lothiriel stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"What do you want?" he demanded roughly.

"I need to say something to you."

"Make it quick."

"I have to apologise to you," she rushed through it. "I behaved horribly and I want Silarien to marry you and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Please believe me."

He was silent for a second. "Are you going to marry Eomer?"

"If he agrees, then yes."

Eomer thought about this. Lothiriel held her breath. "Fine," he said shortly. "I believe you."

"Will you help me?" If anyone knew where Eomer was at this very moment, it would be Eothain.

"What do you need help with?" His tone had softened only a touch. Lothiriel could not blame him.

"Where is Eomer?"

"Heading towards the tavern on the eastern side of the city."

"Then I must find him," Lothiriel moved away but this time Eothain stopped her.

"Good luck," he said and then he let her go.

* * *

Lothiriel rushed frantically down the steps, towards the city, moving without thinking, just knowing that he was near and that soon he would know how she really felt, it was too much to think. She just ran.

The tavern appeared from the grey sky and Lothiriel did not slow down but carried on full pelt through the door into the open room. It was full of blonde men and women, soldiers and wenches and lots of laughter and the smell of ale on everyone's breath. The tallest man in the room was the only one Lothiriel was looking at however. He was stooped slightly, in conversation with a woman who had straggly blonde hair and a bright smile. Lothiriel did not stop but carried on determinedly.

And then Eomer bent further and kissed the straggly-haired, bright smiled woman full on the mouth.

**Thank you for reading if you are still with this story after months and months of neglect. I really did not know what to do with this story for a very long time but I'm happy to say it is almost finished. Thanks! **


	16. Chapter 16

There were servants everywhere. Eowyn's room was full of them, some wrestling with heavy velvet gowns, some meticulously packing hairbrushes and gloves and stockings and some humming cheerfully as they swept the floor or beat the rugs. There was nowhere to go without being advanced upon and asked, "Would my lady like the silk nightgown packed first, or the cotton chemise?" Lothiriel didn't care. She couldn't help but see the servants, helpful as they were, as intruders. There was nowhere to go to think and be alone. The great hall was swarming with departing guests, hot-faced servants performing last minute duties and her whole family. Lothiriel knew she should be there too; they were departing within an hour. But she wasn't ready, not yet.

Finally she found herself a tight corner at the back of Meduseld, somewhere cool and quiet. She could hear the busy hum from the kitchens but it didn't bother her. No one would find her here. She did not want to go. That was the awful, pathetic truth. She was too cowardly to tell anyone but she could admit it to herself. She did not want to leave. And knowing that Eomer didn't care, that he'd gotten over her with the help of a woman in a tavern...it made it all the more humiliating. She'd never tell anyone now. They'd all think she was happy. She'd got what she wanted, after all. Freedom. Now all she wanted was to be tied to Eomer again.

She laid her head back against the cool wall. It soothed her aching head a little. If only she could stop time at this very moment. Stop everything and let her rest here until she could move again.

"Lothiriel?" a familiar voice rang through the hall.

Lothiriel sat up straight. Silarien appeared in front of her with an unreadable expression on her face. She did not enquire as to what Lothiriel was doing or why she was sitting on the floor in a corner. She sat down next to her cousin and sighed deeply.

"Your father wants to leave soon," she told Lothiriel. "He asked me to find you."

"How did you find me?"

"I've been looking for ages."

They fell into an easy silence. Silarien played with her loose braid. Lothiriel twisted her fingers into shapes.

"Are you coming with me?" Lothiriel asked in a quiet voice.

Silarien shrugged. "Yes. Eothain won't even look at me now."

Lothiriel's heart clenched. "That's my fault."

"No, it's not. You didn't tell me to refuse him."

"But if I had accepted my marriage in the first place, you would have been able to have yours."

Silarien smiled sadly. "Perhaps. But what's done is done," she paused and touched Lothiriel's hand gently. "I'm sorry for being angry with you."

"I'm sorry," Lothiriel insisted. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

Silarien tugged on Lothiriel's hand. "We'd better leave now. It's almost noon and your father thinks you've run away or something."

Lothiriel smiled wanly. "No, I'm far too disciplined for that sort of wild, reckless behaviour." They laughed together as they walked to the great hall, but Lothiriel's heart gathered speed as they approached the wooden doors. Every step she took closer to that hall, her heart thundered more and more. Louder and louder. Heavier and heavier until it sank into the bottom of her stomach and churned like angry butterflies.

The huge wooden door creaked open before them. For a moment there was dark and then golden light flooded Lothiriel's eyes. Groups of people stood around talking mindlessly while servants shuffled about with luggage and the impatient noises of waiting horses came from outside the open golden doors.

That was when she saw him. Eomer was standing by the door, deep in conversation with another man. Lothiriel stopped in her tracks. She did not think she could do this. She clenched her fists and curled her toes, gathering what little strength she had left. Then she breathed in slowly and deeply and began to walk towards him. It was good manners, after all, to say farewell to your host.

He spotted her before she reached him. He frowned slightly but excused himself and went to meet her. Lothiriel could hardly bear to look into his face but when he spoke, his voice was kind.

"How are you this morning, my lady?"

"I am very well, thank you, my lord," she paused. "And yourself?"

"I would be better if I could see your face, Lothiriel."

Swallowing, she looked up at him nervously. He grinned. "There, that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Lothiriel had no choice but to shake her head. As she looked up at Eomer, she was overcome with a sudden rush of anger coupled with the realisation that she was never going to see him ever again. He had lied to her. He had told her he loved her and then he had kissed another woman in a tavern, of all places! If there was ever a moment to speak her mind, something told her that this was that moment. At least she could depart for Dol Amroth knowing she had done all she could to make her thoughts clear.

However just as she opened her mouth to speak, Eomer began. "I know you were looking for me," he said to her in a low, quick voice. "Eothain told me. What did you want me for?"

Lothiriel gaped at him, her censure forgotten. "What?" she choked.

"Eothain told me you were looking for me," he repeated patiently. "What did you want to say? I've been eager to know."

He looked eager. He looked almost boyish in his eagerness. Somehow this only made Lothiriel more annoyed. "What does it matter to you?" she snapped. "As soon as I'm gone, you can go straight back to your tavern friend."

He looked utterly bemused. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" she muttered furiously, schooling her features into a calm smile. She was all too aware of the curious looks they were already attracting.

"I'm afraid I do not. You shall have to enlighten me."

"Last evening I saw you in the tavern," she said reluctantly. "Do you need me to say anymore?"

"It seems so. I did not go to a tavern at all yesterday."

She frowned in scepticism but he was not lying, she could see it in his face. "But then...who did I see?"

"I'd like to know that too."

"I saw you, or at least someone who looked very much like you," she stopped and blushed. "Kissing a woman in a tavern," the irritation washed over her again. "And for all your pretty speeches about loving me, you certainly forgot me quickly!"

"Lothiriel –,"

"Don't try and make excuses, I saw you!"

"Lothiriel –,"

"Yes?"

"That was not me, all right? I promise that wasn't me," comprehension dawned on his face and to Lothiriel's bemusement, he grinned. Scanning the room, he located someone and twisted Lothiriel around so her back was facing him. "Do you see that man over there? The tall one with his back to you?"

"Yes."

"That's who you saw."

Lothiriel frowned. She tried to picture the man she was looking at with the man she had seen in the tavern. Then a slow flood of colour spread across her face. "Sorry," she mumbled, ashamed. "He does rather look like you from behind."

"But he is not me, you admit?"

"Yes. I was wrong."

Eomer cleared his throat. "Perhaps you were wrong about something else too?"

"About what?" she asked but her face burned.

"When you said you wanted to go home? Or perhaps when you rejected me?"

Lothiriel was overcome with regret. "I – I wish I had never said those things. You're right, I was wrong and I wish I could take them back. But it is impossible."

"Why is it impossible?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "Because you've broken off the betrothal!"

"It is not yet so broken that it cannot be mended," he told her seriously. "But it needs you to be honest to mend itself."

She saw her choice. Maintain her pride and leave and never come back. Or throw away any pride she was still clinging to and have a chance of happiness. The choice was the easiest she had ever had to make.

"I – I am in love with you," she confessed. "And I wish to stay here and marry you. And I wish you would let me stay. I believe I could do a great deal of work here, for you and your people. But most of all, I just want to stay here to be with you." She wondered if it was possible to turn any redder.

Eomer beamed. "It took you long enough," he chuckled. "Shall I tell your father the good news or shall you?"

"Oh please, let me," grinned Lothiriel. "But you might tell Eothain."

Eomer returned her grin easily. "Don't worry, my darling, I am going to tell everybody."

**Thanks for reading, reviewing and adding me to your story alerts! This is the end of the story, I hope you've enjoyed it :)**


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